INTERNATIONAL   EDUCATION  SERIES 


THE 

MOTTOES  AND  COMMENTARIES 

OF  FRIEDRICH  FROEBEL'S 
MOTHER  PLAT 


MOTHER   COMMUNINGS    AND    MOTTOES    RENDERED    INTO 
ENGLISH    VERSE    BY 

HENRIETTA   R.   ELIOT 


PROSE   COMMENTARIES    TRANSLATED    AND   ACCOMPANIED 

WITH    AN   INTRODUCTION   TREATING   OF    THE 

PHILOSOPHY   OF    FROEBEL,    BY 

SUSAN  E.   BLOW 

;  .- 


"  Deep  meaning  oft  lies  hid  in  childish  play  " 

SCHILLER 


OFTHE 


NEW    YORK 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 
1895 


-»-  A 


' 


COPYRIGHT,  1895, 
BY  D.   APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


ELECTROTYPED  AND  PRINTED 
AT  THE  APPLETON  PRESS,  U.  S.  A. 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 


THE  publishers  of  this  series  take  great  pleas- 
ure in  offering  to  the  kindergarten  public,  and 
to  teachers  generally,  these  volumes  containing  a 
new  version  of  FroebePs  Mutter  und  Kose  Lie- 
der,  or  songs  and  games  for  the  mother  with 
her  child.  This  is  justly  regarded  as  the  key  to 
the  philosophy  of  the  kindergarten  and  as  the 
manual  of  its  practice.  Miss  Blow  has  drawn 
upon  all  the  resources  of  her  experience  and 
study  to  make  this  edition  a  perfect  handbook 
for  English-speaking  mothers  and  teachers.  She 
has  enlisted  the  talent  of  the  poets  for  children 
to  translate  with  taste  and  discrimination  Froe- 
bePs rhymes.  She  has  been  fortunate  in  getting 
so  many  translations  from  Mrs.  Emily  Hunting- 
ton  Miller,  whose  poems  have  the  simplicity,  com- 
pactness, and  beauty  of  old  English  ballads.  New 
music  has  been  prepared  by  persons  who  have 
established  reputation  as  composers  of  music  for 
children's  songs.  The  quaint  and  instructive  il- 
lustrations prepared  under  FroebePs  supervision 
have  been  reproduced  from  the  beautiful  edition 
of  Wichard  Lange,  now  out  of  print  and  not  easy 

vii 


viii  EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 

to  obtain.  Miss  Blow  has  added  a  prose  transla- 
tion of  the  mottoes,  in  order  that  none  of  the 
subtle  meanings  of  Froebel  may  escape  because 
of  the  difficulty  of  presenting  them  in  poetic 
dress. 

Finally,  the  commentaries  have  been  given  in 
as  clear  prose  as  can  be  written.  In  fact,  this 
work  is  something  more  than  a  translation.  The 
ideas  of  Froebel  are  transplanted  into  English 
and  made  to  express  themselves  in  English  as  if 
they  had  been  thought  and  expressed  here  for  the 
first  time. 

To  those  who  know  the  difficulties  in  the  way 
of  such  an  achievement  this  will  seem  marvel- 
lous. The  former  translators  have  struggled  val- 
iantly to  seize  the  subtle  thoughts  of  Froebel 
and  to  imitate  his  sometimes  uncouth  rhymes. 
In  many  cases  the  difficulties  have  been  so  great 
as  to  defy  the  translator.  The  necessities  of 
rhyme  and  metre  have  rendered  it  impossible 
to  preserve  the  thoughts  literally.  On  the  other 
hand,  when  the  translator  has  been  tempted  to 
follow  too  literally  the  German  version  the  Eng- 
lish poetic  form  resulting  is  often  something  else 
than  beautiful.  Froebel  was  not  a  poet  so  much 
as  a  religious  mystic.  He  had  a  prophetic  cast 
of  mind,  and  his  ideas  would  have  been  better 
expressed  in  prose  were  it  not  for  the  purpose  of 
adapting  them  to  music.  He  was  able  to  see 
symbols;  but  poetry  is  something  more  than 
symbolism.  He  lacked  the  true  poetic  sense 
which  can  find  appropriate  forms  of  personifica- 
tion for  ideas.  Poetry  transfigures  natural  ob- 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE.  ix 

jects  and  endows  them  with  souls.  The  symbol 
only  reveals  a  correspondence  between  a  lower 
and  a  higher  order  of  truth.  Froebel,  as  master 
of  the  symbol,  possessed  an  almost  preternatural 
insight  into  educational  values.  This  it  was  that 
led  him  to  the  pedagogics  of  the  kindergarten. 
It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  his  providential 
work  would  have  been  better  accomplished  had 
he  been  of  a  poetic  turn  of  mind.  He  would  in 
that  case  have  avoided,  it  is  true,  the  prosaic  and 
trifling,  but  he  would  likely  have  missed  the  edu- 
cational insights. 

It  is  for  us  who  profit  through  the  labours  of 
Froebel  to  carefully  discriminate  between  the 
good  and  the  bad.  An  unwise  discipleship 
would  copy  him  literally,  and  take  special  pains 
to  mimic  all  his  false  notes.  But  such  a  follow- 
ing would  prove  an  enemy  of  FroebeFs  cause. 

It  has  happened  that  most  of  the  literal  imi- 
tations of  FroebeFs  poetry  have  contributed  in  a 
greater  or  less  degree  to  ruin  the  poetic  sense  of 
teachers  and  pupils.  Goethe  has  pointed  out  that 
the  uncouth  rhymes  and  tasteless  symbols  of  the 
Herrnhut  congregation,  although  intended  for 
the  promotion  of  piety,  yet  in  the  end  perverted 
the  literary  taste,  and  finally  discredited  their 
religious  ideas  when  the  world  came  to  see  the 
grotesqueness  of  their  expressions.  If  the  disci- 
ples burlesque  their  own  doctrines,  how  can  they 
expect  them  to  prevail  in  the  community  ? 

For  example,  the  Closing  Thoughts  (Schluss- 
lied)  of  the  Mother  Play  are  grotesque  in  poetic 
form,  being  essentially  prosaic  in  substance,  for 


x  EDITOR'S   PREFACE. 

they  form  only  a  philosophic  summary  of  the 
ideas  of  the  book,  and  not  a  picture  of  Nature  ren- 
dered transparent  by  metaphor  and  personifica- 
tion. A  rhymed  multiplication  table  or  a  rhymed 
grammar  is  a  sacrilege  committed  against  the 
sacred  form  of  poetry.  Miss  Blow  has  therefore 
given  this  summary  in  prose  In  the  Appendix. 

The  publishers  have  substituted  volumes  of 
convenient  size  for  the  somewhat  cumbersome 
music-book  style  of  volume.  A  separation  of  the 
contents  to  adapt  the  material  to  two  volumes  has 
brought  together  in  the  first  volume  the  mottoes, 
the  commentary,  and  an  appendix  containing  kin- 
dred matter.  This  makes  what  we  may  call  the 
mother's  volume,  since  it  contains  prose  and  po- 
etry not  suitable  for  reading  to  the  children.  The 
second  volume  contains  the  songs  and  the  music 
which  the  children  are  to  sing  in  their  games. 

The  pictures,  as  before  stated,  have  been  re- 
produced from  the  best  edition,  that  of  Wichard 
Lange,  with  a  few  figures  redrawn  to  correct  the 
dropsical  appearance  of  some  of  the  young  chil- 
dren. In  the  second  volume,  for  the  use  of  the 
children,  certain  parts  of  the  pictures  have  been 
repeated  and  enlarged,  in  order  to  show  the  de- 
tails with  greater  clearness. 

Miss  Blow's  introduction  explains  the  relation 
of  Froebel  to  the  great  philosophic  movement  to 
which  he  belonged,  and  especially  to  the  system 
of  Schelling.  This  view  assists  one  in  interpret- 
ing the  obscure  points  in  Froebel's  doctrine.  All 
deep  writers  need,  for  their  full  understanding,  to 
have  each  statement  interpreted  in  the  full  light 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE.  xi 

of  all  that  they  have  written.  In  fact,  it  often 
needs  a  knowledge  of  all  that  they  have  done  as 
well  as  what  they  have  written,  and  Miss  Blow 
has  well  said  that  the  practical  exercises  of  Froe- 
bel  often  throw  light  on  his  obscure  theoretic 
statements. 

Mrs.  Eliot's  translation  of  the  mottoes  has,  at 
the  suggestion  of  Miss  Blow,  interwoven  with  the 
substance  of  the  original  motto  many  of  the  ideas 
that  are  suggested  and  worked  out  in  the  com- 
mentaries— a  new  feature  which  it  is  believed  will 
commend  itself  to  the  reader. 

The  Place  of  the  Kindergarten  and  the  Mother 
Play. 

For  the  first  four  years  of  the  child's  life  the 
family  education  has  been  all  in  all  for  him.  He 
has  learned  in  his  first  year  to  hold  up  his  head, 
to  clutch  things  with  his  hands,  using  his  thumbs 
in  contraposition  to  his  fingers,  and  to  follow 
moving  objects  with  his  eyes;  he  has  learned 
smells,  and  tastes,  and  sounds,  and  colours,  and 
the  individuality  of  objects.  He  has  learned  to 
move  himself,  using  his  limbs  somewhat  as  a 
turtle  does  in  crawling.  In  his  second  year  he 
has  learned  to  stand  alone,  and  to  walk ;  to  use 
some  words,  and  to  understand  the  meaning  of  a 
great  many  more.  His  recognition  of  colours, 
sounds,  tastes,  and  touch  -  impressions  has  in- 
creased enormously.  He  has  acquired  his  first 
set  of  teeth,  and  can  use  them.  Imitation  has 
preceded  the  acquisition  of  language. 

In  his  third  and  fourth  years  his  knowledge 


xii  EDITOR'S   PREFACE. 

of  the  external  world  has  progressed  steadily, 
powerfully  aided,  as  it  is  now,  by  the  acquisition 
of  language.  For  by  language  the  child  has  be- 
come able  to  use  the  senses  of  other  people  as 
well  as  his  own ;  for  he  listens  to  the-  accounts 
of  what  they  have  seen,  and  asks  questions  inces- 
santly, to  draw  out  the  experience  of  his  parents, 
older  brothers  and  sisters,  attendants,  and  ac- 
quaintances. Not  only  does  he  learn  to  see  and 
hear  through  other  people — that  is  to  say,  get  in- 
formation of  the  results  of  other  people's  observa- 
tions— but  he  begins  to  use  their  reflections,  and 
inquires  eagerly  for  explanations.  It  is  a  great 
delight  for  him  to  discover  that  things  and  events 
are  little  sections  in  endless  chains  of  things  and 
events — little  beads,  as  it  were,  strung  on  a  great 
string  of  causal  relation — each  thing  or  event  be- 
ing the  effect  of  some  antecedent  thing  or  event, 
and  likewise  to  become  the  cause  of  other  things 
and  events  to  follow  it.  What  a  wonderful  world 
this  is  to  the  child,  as  the  principle  of  causality 
begins  to  act  in  his  mind,  and  he  wishes  to  know 
the  why  of  things  and  events,  wishes  to  learn  in 
what  sense  they  are  means  to  something  else, 
in  what  sense  they  are  results  of  something  else ! 
Now  that  the  child  possesses  language,  and 
begins  to  inquire  for  names — begins  to  see  ideals, 
and  to  act  to  realise  them— he  can  be  helped 
greatly  by  the  kindergarten  method  of  instruc- 
tion. It  should  be  used  first  in  the  house  by  the 
mother  and  the  nurse,  and  afterwards  in  the 
school.  The  kindergarten  wisely  selects  a  series 
of  objects  that  lead  to  the  useful  possession  of 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE.  xin 

certain  geometric  concepts  and  certain  numer- 
ical concepts,  that  assist  in  grasping  all  things  in 
their  inorganic  aspects.  It  provides  for  his  new 
perception  of  possibilities  or  ideals  by  setting 
him  to  work  at  building.  It  has  a  series  of  occu- 
pations— building,  stick-laying,  drawing,  perfo- 
rating paper,  embroidery,  joining  sticks  by  soaked 
peas,  modelling  in  clay,  weaving,  etc.  In  all  these 
the  child  finds  relations  to  the  fundamental  geo- 
metric shapes  that  he  has  learned  to  know,  and 
he  sees  with  clearness  and  precision  how  to  realise 
ideals. 

The  kindergarten,  in  using  the  gifts  and  occu- 
pations, however,  does  not  use  the  highest  and 
best  that  Froebel  has  invented.  The  peculiar 
Froebel  device  is  found  in  the  plays  and  games. 
Froebel  himself  wrote  the  Mutter  und  Kose 
Lieder,  and  explained  them  with  all  his  subtle 
philosophy.  The  child  here,  in  the  plays  and 
games,  in  which  all  join  (pupils  and  teachers), 
ascends  from  the  world  of  Nature  to  the  world  of 
humanity ;  from  the  world  of  things  to  the  world 
of  self -activity ;  from  the  material  and  earthly  to 
the  spiritual.  Even  in  the  Gifts  and  Occupa- 
tions he  becomes  conscious  of  his  will  as  a 
power  over  matter  to  convert  it  to  use,  and  to 
make  it  the  symbol  of  his  ideals.  But  in  such 
work  he  does  not  fully  realise  his  spiritual  sense, 
because  he  does  not  find  anything  in  that  work 
to  make  him  realise  the  difference  between  his 
particular  self  and  his  general  self.  In  the  plays 
and  games  he  becomes  conscious  of  this  general 
or  social  self,  and  there  dawns  the  higher  ideal 


xiv  EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 

of  a  self  that  is  realised  in  institutions,  over 
against  the  special  self  of  the  particular  indi- 
vidual. 

In  the  songs  and  pantomime  the  child  uses 
his  self-activity  to  reproduce  for  himself  the 
activities  and  occupations  of  the  world  of  society. 
He  produces  a  reflection  of  this  world  of  human 
life  about  him,  and  repeats  to  himself  its  motives 
and  its  industries,  putting  himself  in  the  place  of 
the  grown-up  citizen,  and  assuming  his  mode  of 
thinking  and  acting.  By  this  he  attains  the  new 
consciousness  of  a  higher  self — acting  within  his 
particular  self,  and  dictating  the  customary 
usages,  the  conventional  forms  of  politeness,  the 
fashion  set  for  him  to  follow — and,  above  all,  he 
begins  to  have  a  conscience.  Conscience  demands 
unconditional  obedience,  the  sacrifice  not  only 
of  possessions,  but  of  life,  too,  in  its  behest. 
Here  the  child  climbs  up,  on  this  symbolic  path- 
way, through  play,  to  the  Absolute  Mind.  He 
sees  the  ideal  laws  that  are  absolutely  binding 
above  all  temporal  considerations;  he  sees  the 
moral  law.  The  moral  law  is  an  entirely  differ- 
ent thing  from  the  laws  of  matter  and  motion. 
The  latter  relate  to  dead,  inorganic  substances, 
moved  from  outside  and  under  fate.  The  former 
is  the  law  of  activity  of  what  is  spiritual,  the 
living,  the  human,  the  divine.  It  is  the  law  of 
self-activity.  No  self -active  being  can  retain  its 
freedom  or  self-activity  except  by  conforming  to 
moral  law. 

The  kindergarten  does  well  when  it  teaches 
the  Gifts  and  Occupations,  for  it  deals  with  the 


EDITOR'S   PREFACE.  xv 

world  of  means  and  instrumentalities,  and  helps 
the  child  to  the  conquest  of  Nature.  It  does  better 
with  the  plays  and  games,  because  these  are  thor- 
oughly humane  in  their  nature,  and  they  offer  to 
the  child  in  a  symbolic  form  the  treasures  of  ex- 
perience of  the  race  in  solving  the  problems  of 
life.  They  make  children  wise  without  the  con- 
ceit of  wisdom.  And  there  is  no  philosophy  for 
the  young  woman  to  be  compared  with  the  phi- 
losophy that  Froebel  has  put  into  his  work  on  the 
mother's  plays  and  games  with  her  children. 

W.  T.  HARRIS. 

WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  June  22,  1895. 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


PREFACE  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR 


THE  aim  of  this  version  of  the  Mother  Play  is 
to  render  FroebeFs  thought,  and  to  avoid  so  far 
as  possible  the  tautologies,  involutions,  and  cir- 
cumlocutions of  his  obscure  and  laboured  style. 

After  much  reflection,  it  has  seemed  wise  to 
give  both  a  prose  and  a  poetic  version  of  the 
mottoes.  The  former  I  have  made  as  nearly 
literal  as  possible ;  *  the  object  of  the  latter  is 
to  present  in  poetic  form  the  salient  thought  of 
each  original  motto  and  its  accompanying  com- 
mentary. By  this  plan  the  reader  is  brought 
into  contact  with  Froebel's  precise  thought,  and 
may  at  will  accept  or  reject  the  additions  and 
changes  made  in  the  poetic  rendering  of  the 
mottoes.  For  my  own  part,  I  feel  that  I  cannot 
too  cordially  commend  Mrs.  Eliot's  interpreta- 
tions, or  too  gratefully  acknowledge  her  patient, 
efficient,  and  generous  co-operation. 

The  translation  of  the  commentaries  is  in- 
tentionally free,  and  I  have,  wherever  possible, 
woven  into  the  prose  the  thoughts  contained  in 

*  Appendix,  Note  V. 
xvii 


xviii         PREFACE  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 

FroebePs  very  unpoetic  rhymes.  I  have  rele- 
gated to  the  Appendix  the  commentary  on  the 
Illustrated  Title-page,*  which  is  one  of  the  worst 
of  Froebel's  lapses  into  artificial  symbolism ;  the 
prose  translation  of  the  pedagogic  rhymes  in  the 
commentary  to  the  Flower  Song,f  and  a  prose 
version  of  the  poem  entitled  Closing  Thoughts.  J 

The  drawings  on  the  cover  of  the  original 
Mother  Play  and  the  commentary  explaining 
them  have  been  omitted.  These  drawings  and 
commentary  are  omitted  from  the  latest  German 
edition  of  the  Mother  Play,  and  in  my  judgment 
the  book  gains  by  their  absence. 

Since  writing  the  Introduction  I  have  been 
informed  by  Fraulein  Eleonore  Heerwart  that 
the  motto  "  Deep  meaning  oft  lies  hid  in  childish 
play"  was  not  chosen  by  Froebel.  It  is,  how- 
ever, given  in  both  the  Lange  and  the  Seidel 
editions  of  the  Mother  Play. 

SUSAN  E.  BLOW. 

AVON,  N.  Y..  May  U,  1895. 

*  Appendix,  Note  I.  f  Appendix,  Note  VI. 

\  Appendix,  Note  VII. 


CONTENTS. 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE vii 

PREFACE  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR xvii 

INTRODUCTION  :  FROEBEL'S  PHILOSOPHY         ....      1 
MOTHER  COMMUNINGS  : 

1.  Feelings  of  a  Mother  contemplating  her  Firstborn 

Child .        .42 

2.  The  Mother  in  Unity  with  her  Child .        .        .        .43 

3.  The  Mother's  Joy  in  beholding  her  Child  ...     44 

4.  The  Mother  at  Play  with  her  Child  ....    45 

5.  The  Mother  observing  the  Development  of  her  Child    47 

6.  The  Mother  talking  to  her  Child        ....    48 

7.  The  Child  at  its  Mother's  Breast        ....    49 
FROEBEL'S  INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  COMMENTARIES  .        .        .53 
MOTTOES  AND  COMMENTARIES  : 

1.  Play  with  the  Limbs  .        .        .        .        .        .        .73 

2.  Falling!    Falling!       .        .        .        .        .        .        .77 

3.  The  Weather  Vane 81 

4.  All  Gone ! 85 

5.  Taste  Song 90 

6.  Flower  Song 95 

7.  Tick-Tack 99 

8.  Mowing  Grass 105 

9.  Beckoning  the  Chickens      .        .  .        .        .  109 

10.  Beckoning  the  Pigeons 113 

11.  The  Fish  in  the  Brook        .        .    "  .        .        .        .115 
,     12.  The  Target 119 

13.  Pat-a-Cake .125 

14.  The  Nest 129 

xix 


xx  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

15.  The  Flower  Basket 135 

16.  The  Pigeon  House 139 

fir.  Naming  the  Fingers    .        .       itT^-^.  ^Jjl  >  147 

18.  The  Greeting    f.        .        .        . /".        .        .        .151 

19.  The  Family^X     .        .        .        /      .     .   .        .        .155 

20.  Numbering  the  Fingers 159 

21.  The  Finger  Piano 161 

22.  Happy  Brothers  and  Sisters       .        .        .        .        .167 

23.  The  Children  on  the  Tower        .  .        .        .173 

24.  The  Child  and  the  Moon 177 

25.  The  Little  Boy  and  the  Moon 179 

26.  The  Little  Maiden  a-nd  the  Stars        .        .        .        .183 

27.  The  Light-bird 185 

28.  The  Shadow  Rabbit 193 

29.  Wolf  and  Wild  Pig 197 

30.  The  Little  Window 205 

31.  The  Window.— The  Two  Windows    .        .        .        .207 

32.  The  Charcoal  Burner 211 

33.  The  Carpenter 215 

34.  The  Bridge 219 

35.  The  Farmyard  Gate 223 

The  Two  Gates 225 

36.  The  Little  Gardener 227 

37.  The  Wheelwright 233 

38.  The  Joiner 237 

39.  The  Knights  and  the  Good  Child       .        .        .        .239 

40.  The  Knights  and  the  Bad  Child         .  .  247 

41.  The  Knights  and  the  Mother 249 

42.  Hide  and  Seek 255 

43.  The  Cuckoo 260 

44.  The   Toyman  and   the  Maiden. — The  Toyman  and 

the  Boy 263 

45.  The  Church 267 

46.  The  Little  Artist         .        .        .        .'  .        .273 
APPENDIX  .  279 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

Illustrated  Title  Page v. 

Mother  and  Child 50 

GAMES  AND  SONGS  : 

Picture  1.  Play  with  the  Limbs 72 

2.  The  Weather  Vane 80 

3.  All  Gone  ! 86 

4.  Tick-Tack 100 

"        5.  Mowing  Grass 104 

6.  Beckoning  the  Chickens     .        .        .        .108 
"        7.  Beckoning  the  Pigeons       .        .        .        .112 

8.  The  Fish  in  the  Brook        .        .        .        .116 

9.  The  Target 120 

"      10.  Pat-a-Cake 124 

"      11.  The  Nest 128 

"      12.  The  Flower  Basket 134 

"      13.  The  Pigeon  House 138 

"      14.  Naming  the  Fingers  .        .        .         .        .     148 

"      15.  The  Greeting 152 

"      16.  The  Family 154 

"       17.  Numbering  the  Fingers      ....     158 

18.  The  Finger  Piano 162 

"  19.  Happy  Brothers  and  Sisters  .  .  .168 
"  20.  The  Children  on  the  Tower  .  .  .172 
"  21.  The  Child  and  the  Moon  .  .  .  .176 
"  22.  The  Little  Boy  and  the  Moon  .  .  .178 
"  23.  The  Little  Maiden  and  the  Stars  .  .  182 

"      24.  The  Light-bird 186 

xx  i 


xxii  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

Picture  25.  The  Rabbit  on  the  Wall     .        .        .        .194 

"      26.  The  Wolf 198 

"      27.  The  Wild  Pig 200 

Shadow  Pictures         ....    202,  203 

"      28.  The  Little  Window 204 

"  29.  The  Window       .        .        .        .        .        .206 

"      30.  The  Charcoal  Burner 212 

"      31.  The  Carpenter 216 

"      32.  The  Bridge 220 

"      33.  The  Farmyard  Gate 222 

"      34.  The  Garden  Gate 224 

"      35.  The  Little  Gardener 228 

"      36.  The  Wheelwright 232 

"      37.  The  Joiner 236 

"  38.  The  Knights  and  the  Good  Child       .        .    240 

"  39.  The  Knights  and  the  Bad  Child         .        .    246 

"  40.  The  Knights  and  the  Mother     .        .        .250 

"      41.  Hide  and  Seek 254 

"      42.  The  Cuckoo 260 

"  43.  The  Toyman  and  the  Maiden     .        .        .262 

"  44.  The  Toyman  and  the  Boy  .        .        .        .264 

"      45.  The  Church 268 

"  46.  The  Little  Artist                                          ,    272 


INTRODUCTION. 
FROEBEL'S  PHILOSOPHY. 

I.  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GERMANY  IN  FROEBEL'S 
TIME. 

"BEWARE,"  says  Emerson,  "when  the  great 
God  lets  loose  a  thinker  on  this  planet :  then  all 
things  are  at  risk."  Something  over  a  century 
ago,  Immanuel  Kant,  a  little  old  bachelor  of 
Konigsberg,  "  by  whose  punctual  walk  his  neigh- 
bours set  their  watches,"  and  who  "  in  the  ordi- 
nary sense  of  the  words  had  neither  life  nor  his- 
tory," was  troubled  in  spirit  over  current  theories 
with  regard  to  the  nature  and  source  of  human 
knowledge.  To-day  we  live  in  a  world  where 
everything  great  and  small  owns  his  influence. 
"  He  conquered  for  his  people  the  empire  of  the 
air."  Indirectly,  he  also  ^ave  them  their  visible 
empire ;  for  it  was  his  first  great  disciple,  Fichte, 
who,  fired  by  the  Critique  of  Practical  Reason, 
created  the  national  school  system  of  Germany, 
and,  by  developing  the  intelligence  and  rousing 
the  patriotism  of  his  countrymen,  set  in  motion 
the  influences  whose  outcome  has  been  the  polit- 
ical independence  and  solidarity  of  the  German 

1 


2  MOTHER  PLAY. 

fatherland.*  Through,  its  influence  upon  the  will- 
ing mind  of  Schleiermacher,  the  reluctant  mind  of 
Frederick  Maurice,  and  the  hostile  mind  of  Car- 
dinal Newman,  the  philosophy  created  by  Kant 
and  developed  by  his  successors  has  leavened 
the  theologies  of  Germany,  England,  and  Rome. 
Through  Goethe  and  Schiller  it  has  stamped  it- 
self upon  German  literature.  Through  Coleridge 
and  Carlyle  it  has  penetrated  English  literature. 
Through  New  England  Transcendentalism  it 
has  become  a  power  in  American  literature. 
Through  the  music  of  Beethoven  and  Wagner 
it  has  stirred  in  all  susceptible  souls  lofty  and 
mysterious  emotions.  Through  Schelling,  Oken, 
Cams,  Oersted,  and  others  it  has  laid  its  magic 
touch  upon  natural  science.  Last  of  all — but,  if 
there  be  truth  in  the  parable  of  the  mustard  seed, 
perhaps  not  least  of  all — it  has  bent  itself  to  the 
lowly  service  of  childhood,  and,  using  as  its  in- 

*  "  When, during  the  years  of  the  French  domination,  it  seemed 
as  though  the  death  knell  of  German  nationality  had  been  rung, 
when  cowardly  soldiers  in  masses  deserted  their  flag  while  the 
battle  raged,  Fichte  saw  that  the  salvation  of  Germany  lay  in 
the  education  of  her  sons.  '  Create  a  nation  by  national  educa- 
tion ! '  he  cried  to  the  princes  of  Germany.  The  princes,  at  his 
exhortation,  appealed  to  the  people,  and  freedom  from  a  foreign 
yoke  was  their  reward.  Not  Blucher,  not  Schornhorst,  but 
Fichte  drove  the  French  from  the  Fatherland.  Fichte's  deepest 
conviction  was  that  the  idea  of  the  perfect  state  could  only  be 
realized  through  education.  '  The  reasonable  state,'  says  he, '  can 
never  be  formed  from  existing  material  by  artificial  means ;  it 
must  be  evolved  from  the  consciousness  of  an  educated  people.' 
The  philosopher  was  the  creator  of  the  idea  of  national  educa- 
tion— in  one  word,  the  pedagogic  statesman."— WICHARD  LAXGE. 


FROEBEL'S  PHILOSOPHY.  3 

strumeiit  the  mind  of  Froebel,  is  visibly  trans- 
forming the  nurseries  and  infant  schools  of  all 
civilised  lands. 

When  Mr.  Alcott  was  asked  to  define  tran- 
scendentalism, he  answered  promptly :  "It  means  U 
that  there  is  something  in  the  mind  which  did 
not  get  there  through  the  senses."  This  defini- 
tion suggests  the  point  of  departure  for  modern 
speculative  philosophy.  Kant  could  not  believe 
that  "all  knowledge  consists  of  impressions  of 
the  senses  and  the  faint  images  of  these  impres- 
sions called  up  in  memory  and  thinking."  His 
mind  recoiled  from  the  idea  that  the  "  ego  is  only 
a  subjective  notion,  a  unity  of  the  series  of  impres- 
sions called  myself."  He  argued  that  knowledge 
being  a  product  of  two  factors — an  objective  fac- 
tor given  in  sensation  and  a  subjective  factor  due 
to  the  constitution  of  the  mind — thought  could 
only  arrive  at  the  truth  with  regard  to  one  fac- 
tor by  eliminating  the  other.  Differently  stated, 
since  the  mind  in  the  act  of  cognition  sets  its 
own  seal  upon  the  data  of  sense,  the  removal  of 
the  impressed  signet  is  necessary  in  order  to 
show  what  the  wax  may  be  in  itself.  Upon  in- 
vestigation the  signet  turns  out  to  be  that  of  a 
sovereign,  and  the  wax  proves  itself  of  a  singular 
plasticity.  Experience,  reasons  Kant,  is  partial 
and  contingent.  Hence  no  idea  possessing  the 
marks  of  universality  and  necessity  can  have 
been  thence  derived.  All  such  ideas  bear  the 
royal  stamp  of  mind,  and  must  be  native  to  its 
constitution.  Applying  this  test,  he  discovers, 
doubtless  to  his  own  astonishment,  that  space 


4  MOTHER  PLAY. 

and  time  must  be  reckoned  among  our  subjective 
possessions.  "All  spatial  limitation  implies  space 
beyond  the  limit,"  *  or,  differently  stated,  space  is 
self-limited.  Self-limitation  is  another  word  for 
infinitude,  and  infinitude  another  word  for  uni- 
versality. Since  the  idea  of  space  involves  infini- 
tude, it  cannot  by  any  possibility  be  derived  from 
sensation,  for  the  testimony  of  sense  is  limited  to 
the  here  and  now.  Furthermore,  the  idea  of 
space  is  the  necessary  presupposition  of  all  expe- 
rience of  an  external  world,  and  the  necessary 
presupposition  of  all  experience  cannot  be  derived 
from  any  finite  number  of  experiences.  There- 
fore space  must  be  one  of  the  constitutive  ideas 
of  mind — a  kind  of  spiritual  lens  used  in  all  acts 
of  perception.  Aristotle  defines  space  as  the  uni- 
versal vessel  in  which  all  things  are  contained ; 
and  of  course  if  the  including  vessel  be  in  the 
mind,  there  too  must  be  its  contents.  A  similar 
course  of  reasoning  proves  the  subjectivity  of 
time,  and  by  implication  the  subjectivity  of  all 
processes  of  change — growth,  development,  and 
metamorphosis.  With  its  powers  of  deglutition 
strengthened  by  these  remarkable  feats,  Kantian 
thought  easily  swallows  everything  that  is  worth 
swallowing ;  nor  is  its  voracity  appeased  until  it 
has  proved  that  being  is  an  a  priori  idea,  and 
hence  that  nothing  dare  exist  without  saying 
"  By  your  leave  "  to  the  universal  Mind. 

Does  this  mean  that  the  visible  universe  is 
merely  "an   orderly  phantasmagoria  generated 

*  Educational  Psychology,  Dr.  Harris,  Chapter  VI. 


FROEBEL'S  PHILOSOPHY.  5 

by  the  ego  and  unfolding  its  successive  scenes 
upon  the  background  of  an  abyss  of  nothing- 
ness "  ?  Is  the  world  man  knows  only  a  world  he 
makes,  and  are  there  behind,  beneath,  above  this 
world  great  realities,  mysterious  things  in  them- 
selves which  he  can  never  know  ?  Or,  since  with- 
out borrowing  from  mind  the  right  to  be,  nothing 
can  exist,  is  the  so-called  thing  in  itself  a  merev 
figment  of  the  imagination,  and  as  the  outcome  of 
all  this  storm  and  stress  of  thought  does  little 
man  stand  forth  like  the  hero  of  fairy  legend 
holding  in  his  hand  the  heart  of  the  giant  uni- 
verse which  henceforth  shall  live  and  breathe 
only  at  his  good  pleasure  ?  Finally,  does  each  in- 
dividual build  his  own  world,  and,  if  so,  how  does 
it  happen  that  all  individuals  build  substantially 
the  same  world  ? 

These  questions  suggest  the  problems  with 
which  German  philosophy  wrestles.  Kant 
proves  the  subjectivity  of  space  and  time,  and 
thus  reduces  the  knowable  universe  to  a  product 
of  the  self.  To  Fichte  it  becomes  clear  that  the 
self  who  builds  the  world  is  not  the  private  and 
particular  self  of  each  rational  subject.  In  every 
man  there  are  two  selves — a  pygmy  self  and  a 
giant  self.  The  former  discriminates  the  particu- 
lar individual  from  all  other  individuals ;  the  x 
latter  unites  him  with  them.  The  colossal  self 
who  is  in  and  through  and  over  all  particular 
selves  is  the  true  world-builder.  In  an  illuminat- 
ing flash  of  thought  Schelling  comes  to  see  that 
this  colossal  world-builder  is  not  imprisoned  inx 
the  realm  of  subjective  intelligence.  For  in  order 


6  MOTHER  PLAY. 

to  be  universal  and  necessary  his  ideas  must  be 
objective  as  well  as  subjective,  and  lie  cannot  be 
less  objective  than  his  own  constitutive  forms. 

r Hence  the  world  is  a  revelation  of  the  Absolute 
Spirit.  Finally,  the  vortical  movement  of  specu- 
lative thought  returns  upon  itself  in  the  mind  of 
Hegel,  who,  rigorously  analysing  the  paradox  of 
self-consciousness,  finds  therein  a  key  to  all  the 

'  problems  of  philosophy.  Granting  that  spirit 
makes  the  world,  then  in  the  form  of  spirit  must 
lie  the  explanation  of  the  world-making  process. 
The  form  of  spirit  is  self-consciousness,  as  was 
perceived  by  Aristotle  when  he  defined  reason  as 
the  "knowing  of  knowing."  Self-consciousness 
is  the  knowing  of  the  self  by  the  self,  and  this 
implies  both  the  distinction  of  subject  and  object, 
and  the  recognition  of  their  identity.  The  life  of 
the  spirit  is  therefore  an  endless  process  of  self- 
diremption  and  of  the  reintegration  of  its  di- 
rempted  elements  into  the  synthetic  unity  of  con- 
sciousness. Its  history  is  an  endless  flight  from 
itself  in  order  to  find  itself. 

Boundless  is  the  illumination  of  this  insight. 
It  is  the  veritable  sun  of  the  spiritual  world,  and 
in  its  light  all  the  phenomena  of  mind  are  re- 
vealed in  their  individual  distinction  and  their 
reciprocal  relations.  What  is  love  but  the  flight 
of  the  self  to  another  and  the  finding  of  itself  in 
this  other?  What  is  holiness  but  a  persistent 
flight  of  the  soul  from  its  own  evil  ?  What  is  in- 
dividuality but  the  relationship  of  the  self  to  and 
its  recoil  upon  an  environment  of  other  selves  ? 
What  is  human  self-knowledge  but  the  recog- 


FROEBEL'S  PHILOSOPHY.  7 

nition  by  our  universal  and  abiding  self  of  an 
indefinite  series  of  momentary  and  vanishing 
selves  ?  What  are  the  antitheses  of  finite  and  in- 
finite, chance  and  necessity,  fate  and  freedom, 
phenomenon  and  noumenon — in  brief,  what  are 
all  the  contradictions  which  vex  and  baffle  our 
understanding,  but  the  paradoxes  of  a  spirit 
which  must  achieve  unity  by  a  triumph  over  op- 
positions ?  Finally,  what  must  be  the  life  of  the 
infinite  and  divine  self  ?  Must  it  not  consist  in 
a  ceaseless  outpouring  of  its  wealth — an  eternal 
gift  of  itself  to  another,  and  an  eternal  discovery 
of  itself  in  this  other  ?  And  the  visible  universe, 
is  it  not  precisely  the  embodiment  of  such  a  di- 
vine life,  a  synthetic  unity  wrought  of  infinite 
differentiation  ?  * 

The  Two  Insights  of  the  Kantian  School. 

If  I  have  succeeded  in  sketching  roughly  the 
development  of  speculative  thought,  the  reader 
will  have  perceived  that  the  foci  which  determine 
its  curve  are  the  world-destroying  insight  of  the 
subjectivity  of  space  and  time,  and  the  world-re- 
building insight  of  the  objectivity  of  mind.  Be- 
cause he  never  attained  the  latter  insight,  Kant 
held  on  with  desperate  grip  to  certain  unknown 
and  unknowable  "  things-in-themselves."  His 
successors,  however,  bade  these  spectres  avaunt, 
and,  boldly  declaring  that  since  mind  cannot  be 

*  Whoever  attains  this  insight  will  realise  how  little  specu- 
lative philosophy  deserves  the  reproach  of  pantheism,  and  will 
understand  that  it  is  a  presentation  by  and  to  reason  of  the  very 
truth  which  Christianity  reveals  to  the  heart — the  truth,  viz., 
that  God  is  love.  ^*£e3!t.  LIBR/ft^x^ 

^NiViERsiTY} 

V  OF  >' 


8  MOTHER  PLAY. 

less  universal  and  necessary  than  its  own  ideas, 
it  must  be  the  one  true  and  only  "  thing  in  itself/' 
declined  to  bother  their  heads  with  unrealities 
devoid  of  extension,  change,  and  even  existence. 
True  attorneys  of  Reason  they  proved  her  title 
to  the  sphere,  and  showed  that  in  the  so-called 
material  world  "  omnipresent  mind  lies  extended 
all  around  and  about  itself." 

Schelling's  Insight  into  the  Spiritual  Meaning 
of  Nature. 

As  we  have  seen,  the  doctrine  that  reason  or 
intelligence  is  the  identity  of  the  subjective  and 
the  objective  was  first  announced  by  Schelling. 
Starting  from  the  self-evident  fact  that  all  true 
knowledge  implies  a  correspondence  between 
thought  and  being,  he  declares  nature  to  be  the 
sum  of  all  that  is  objective  in  our  knowing,  and 
the  ego  to  be  the  sum  of  all  that  is  subjective,* 
and  argues  that  these  two  sums  must  be  equal. 
The  relationship  between  nature  and  intelligence 
is  illustrated  by  the  symbol  of  the  magnet.  "All 
knowing  has  two  poles  which  reciprocally  imply 
each  other.  Hence  there  must  be  two  funda- 
mental sciences,  and  it  must  be  impossible  to  start 
from  the  one  without  being  impelled  towards  the 
other."  f  By  self -impulsion  nature  ascends  towards 
spirit.  By  self -impulsion  spirit  produces  nature. 
"  All  natural  objects  have  their  explanation  in  a 
blind  attempt  on  the  part  of  nature  to  look  at 
itself,"  or  to  become  self-conscious  intelligence. 
Conversely,  the  whole  activity  of  the  thinking 

*  System  des  Transcendentalen  Idealismus.          f  Ibid. 


FROEBEL'S  PHILOSOPHY.  9 

subject  is  the  self  production  of  itself  as  object, 
and  the  beholding  of  itself  in  this  object.  There- 
fore alike  in  the  dramatically  self-evolving  proc- 
esses of  nature  and  in  the  subconscious  and  partly 
conscious  activities  of  human  intelligence  we  may 
study  the  becoming  of  reason. 

In  its  power  of  mental  provocation  this  great 
insight  is  without  a  rival.  It  produces  in  him 
who  assimilates  it  a  new  temper  of  mind  and  leads 
him  to  be  everywhere  on  the  lookout  for  traces 
of  the  structure  of  reason.  He  makes  novel  and 
strangely  suggestive  definitions  of  nature.  She  is 
"  unripe  mind  " ;  "  petrified  intelligence  "  ;  "  adul- 
terated reason  " ;  "  mind  precipitated  "  ;  "  the  im- 
mense shadow  of  man  " ;  "  the  colossal  cipher  of 
the  soul " ;  "  the  garment  of  divinity  " ;  "  the  cata- 
ract which  reflects  in  rainbow  colours  the  sun- 
light of  reason."  "  As  a  whole,  and  in  the  rela- 
tion of  her  parts,  she  is  the  dial  plate  of  the 
invisible  world."  She  is  "  an  encyclopaedical,  sys- 
tematic plan  or  index  of  the  human  spirit."  She 
is  "  an  ^Eolian.  harp,  a  musical  instrument  whose 
tones  again  are  keys  to  higher  strings  in  us."  She 
mounts  towards  man,  who  is  "  her  Messiah."  Her 
dead  and  unconscious  products  are  "  her  abortive 
attempts  to  mirror  herself."  Man  is  "  her  higher 
sense  " ;  "  the  star  which  connects  this  planet  with 
the  upper  world,  the  eye  it  turns  towards  heaven." 
The  "  reason  that  sleeps  in  the  plant  and  dreams 
in  the  animal  wakes  in  him."  "  The  pungent  in- 
fluence of  natural  objects  upon  the  mind  "  is  due 
to  the  fact  that  through  them  "  man  imprisoned, 
man  crystallised,  man  vegetative,  speaks  to  man 


MOTHER  PLAY. 

impersonated."  In  sum,  "  men  are  symbols  and 
inhabit  symbols;  workmen,  work  and  tools, 
words  and  things,  birth,  and  death  are  emblems, 
and  it  is  only  our  infatuation  with  the  economical 
uses  of  things  which  blinds  us  to  the  fact  that  all 
things  are  thoughts." 

Quickened  by  the  insight  that  nature  is  a 
symbol  in  the  whole  and  in  every  part,  alert  rea- 
son begins  to  search  for  adumbrations  of  her  own 
form,  and  thus  pierces  to  deeper  and  more  specific 
analogies.  Consciousness  is  recognition  of  the 
identity  of  subject  and  object.  It  is  selfsame- 
ness.  Hence,  in  Nature,  "all  things  are  of  one 
pattern  made,"  and  the  universe  "an  infinite 
paroquet  repeats  one  note."  *  But  the  sameness  of 
reason  is  a  sameness  in  difference.  Mind  is  self- 
polarising,  and  consciousness  the  "  eternal  rhyme  " 
of  subject  and  object.  Therefore,  Nature  is  "  bal- 
ance-loving, and  makes  all  things  in  pairs  " ;  and 
in  darkness  and  light,  in  the  poles  of  the  magnet, 

*  "  All  things 

Are  of  one  pattern  made :  bird,  beast,  and  flower, 
Song,  picture,  form,  space,  thought,  and  character 
Deceive  us,  seeming  to  be  many  things, 
And  are  but  one.  .  .  . 
To  know  one  element,  explore  another, 
And  in  the  second  reappears  the  first. 
The  specious  panorama  of  a  year 
But  multiplies  the  image  of  a  day ; 
A  belt  of  mirrors  round  a  taper's  flame, 
And  universal  Nature,  through  her  vast 
And  crowded  whole,  an  infinite  paroquet, 
Repeats  one  note." — EMERSON,  Xenophanes. 
See  also,  in  Representative  Men,  the  Essay  on  Swedenborg. 


FROEBEL'S  PHILOSOPHY.  H 

in  acid  and  alkali,  hi  the  mystery  of  sex,  we  find 
writ  in  characters  of  sense  the  law  of  spirit.  Di- 
recting attention  less  to  the  fixed  antithesis  of 
subject  and  object,  and  more  to  the  form  of  spir- 
itual activity,  mind  reveals  itself  as  a  process  of 
estrangement  and  return,  a  self-diremption  into 
specific  ideas  and  energies,  and  a  return  into  itself 
by  the  reintegration  of  its  dirempted  elements 
into  the  unity  of  consciousness.  In  correspond- 
ence with  this  circular  sweep  of  the  soul,  the 
heavenly  spheres  revolve,  days  and  seasons  come 
and  go,  the  great  sea  ebbs  and  flows,  plants  and 
animals  repeat  the  rotary  processes  of  genera- 
tion, growth,  and  metamorphosis ;  or,  in  scientific 
summary,  all  Nature  is  "  reducible  to  a  series  of 
motions,"  and  the  "  primordial  mode  of  all  these 
motions  is  rhythm."  Last  of  all,  the  circles  of  the 
spirit  are  ascending  and  widening  circles,  and  in 
its  returns  upon  itself  thought  mounts  to  higher 
planes  of  consciousness.  The  mark  of  each  higher 
plane  is  the  dissolution  of  an  ever-increasing 
multiplicity  of  differences  into  a  deeper  unity. 
Hence  Nature,  in  the  whole  and  in  every  part,  is 
evolutionary,  and  whether  in  the  development  of 
the  nebula,  the  seed,  the  animal,  or  in  the  genesis 
of  higher  species  of  plants  and  animals,  she  moves 
from  the  homogeneous  to  the  heterogeneous,  and 
her  guiding  ideal  is  the  production  of  specific 
individuality  by  the  harmonising  of  infinite  dif- 
ferences.* 

*  "  No  living  thinker,"  says  Mr.  Drummond,  "  has  yet  found 
it  possible  to  account  for  evolution.     Mr.  Herbert  Spencer's  fa- 


12  MOTHER  PLAY. 

From  the  recognition  of  reason  in  nature, 
thought  ascends  to  recognition  of  reason  in  the 
unconscious  and  partially  conscious  processes  of 
mind.  The  difference  between  the  higher  and 
lower  forms  of  intelligence  is  shown  to  consist 
not  in  "the  presence  or  absence  of  phases  of 
thought  but  in  the  consciousness  of  them/'  In- 
stinct is  denned  as  "  genius  in  paradise  before 
the  period  of  self-abstraction."  Feeling  is  proved 
to  hold  thought  in  solution.  Imagination  is 
"the  use  which  reason  makes  of  the  material 
world " ;  "  the  affirmation  of  a  real  relation  be- 
tween a  thought  and  some  material  fact " ;  "  the 
recognition  of  the  reality  of  reason  under  the 
shows  of  sense";  "the  power  which  transub- 
stantiates daily  bread  into  holiest  symbol."  The 
voice  of  fable  is  declared  "  to  have  in  it  some- 
what divine."  Fairy  tales  are  "dreams  of  that 

mous  definition  of  evolution  as  'a  change  from  an  indefinite 
incoherent  homogeneity  to  a  definite  coherent  heterogeneity 
through  continuous  differentiations  and  integrations' — the  for- 
mula of  which  the  Contemporary  Reviewer  remarked  that '  the 
universe  may  well  have  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief  when,  through 
the  cerebration  of  an  eminent  thinker  it  had  been  delivered  of 
this  account  of  itself — is  simply  a  summary  of  results,  and 
throws  no  light,  though  it  is  often  supposed  to  do  so,  upon  ulti- 
mate causes." — Ascent  of  Man,  p.  5. 

I  entirely  agree  with  Mr.  Drummond  that  Mr.  Spencer's 
formula  throws  no  light  upon  the  ultimate  causes  of  evolution. 
It  is  certain,  however,  that  before  Mr.  Darwin  and  Mr.  Spencer 
had  formulated  the  theory  of  evolution  it  had  been  accounted 
for  in  speculative  philosophy,  and,  furthermore,  that  the  clew  to 
the  cosmic  process  had  been  practically  applied  by  Proebel  to 
the  education  of  little  children. 


FROEBEL'S  PHILOSOPHY.  13 

home  world  which  is  everywhere  and  nowhere." 
Proverbs  are  "  the  sanctuary  of  the  intuitions." 
Art  is  "  the  presentation  of  reason  to  man 
through  his  senses  "  ;  the  "godlike  rendered  visi- 
ble " ;  "  eternity  looking  through  time."  Poetry 
"is  science,  and  the  poet  the  true  logician." 
The  poet  is  "the  all-knower,  an  actual  world  in 
miniature,"  and  his  vocation  is  "to  call  each 
particular  fact  to  its  universal  consecration." 
Religions  cease  to  be  denounced  as  products  of 
superstition  and  priestcraft,  and  are  recognised 
as  "  reason  speaking  naively " ;  as  "  the  highest 
symbols — symbols  through  which  all  men  can 
recognise  a  present  God  and  worship  the  same." 
In  a  word,  "  the  whole  history  of  humanity,  with 
all  its  changing  scenes,  stands  forth  revealed 
as  a  process  of  the  development  and  realisa- 
tion of  spirit";  and,  unsated  even  by  this  full 
recognition  of  her  presence  and  her  deeds,  all- 
conquering  Reason  insists  that  every  product 
and  process  of  thought  shall  declare  her  form ; 
and  in  language,  myth,  and  fable,  in  art  and 
religion,  in  the  contrast  between  the  dull  uni- 
formities of  savage  life  and  the  complex  inter- 
dependencies  of  civilisation,  in  the  rise  and  fall 
of  particular  peoples,  and  in  the  great  cycles 
of  universal  history,  seeks  and  finds  manifesta- 
tions of  her  self  sameness,  her  polar  antithesis, 
her  rhythmic  pulsation,  and  her  dissolution  of 
ever-increasing  contradictions  into  higher  uni- 
ties.* As  the  outcome  of  her  victory,  "  every  act 

*  For  a  discussion  of   the  nature   of  self-consciousness  in 


14  MOTHER  PLAY. 

of  introversion,  every  glance  into  the  mind,  is 
proved  to  be  a  glance  at  the  veritable  outward, 
and  an  ascension  towards  heaven." 

II.  FROEBEL  AS  A  DISCIPLE  OF  SCHELLING. 

My  apology  for  referring  to  a  series  of  specu- 
lative insights  in  the  introduction  to  a  book  popu- 
larly supposed  to  be  a  mere  collection  of  nursery 
songs  is  the  conviction  that  without  some  ap- 
preciation of  the  ideas  in  which  Froebel  lived, 
moved,  and  had  his  being,  his  writings  and  his 
educational  work  are  alike  incomprehensible. 
He  is  par  excellence  the  philosopher  of  education. 
Born  in  1782,  he  was  seven  years  younger  than 
Schelling  and  twelve  years  younger  than  Hegel. 
^When  he  was  twenty-one  years  old  he  read  Schel- 
ling's  Bruno,  and  in  an  autobiographical  letter 
he  tells  us  that  he  was  deeply  moved  by  it  and 
seemed  to  himself  to  understand  it.  He  so  loved 
Novalis  (the  gifted  disciple  of  Schelling),  that  if 
for  any  reason  he  parted  with  the  volume  contain- 
ing his  works  "  he  felt  as  if  he  had  parted  with 
himself ;  and  if  anything  happened  to  the  book, 
he  felt  as  if  it  had  happened  to  himself,  only  far 
more  keenly  and  deeply."  Another  of  his  favour- 
ite books  was  the  Psyche  of  Carus  (another  disci- 
ple of  Schelling,  who  expounded  the  philosophy 
of  Nature),  of  which  he  declares  that "  he  has  met 
with  no  work  which  bears  such  clear  witness  to 

art,  see  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Philosophy,  William  T. 
Harris,  pp.  189-235. 


FROEBEL'S  PHILOSOPHY.  15 

the  truth  of  his  own  aims  and  efforts."  *  He  was 
the  friend  and  correspondent  of  Krause.  Through 
Langethal,  Middendorff,  and  his  wife,  he  was 
brought  into  contact  with  the  thought  of  Fichte 
and  Schleiermacher.  His  own  writings  show  con- 
clusively that  he  not  only  participated  in  the  gen- 
eral philosophic  activity  of  his  time,  but  that  he 
was  specifically  an  adherent  of  that  "Romantic 
School"  which  has  thrown  so  much  light  upon 
nature,  art,  mythology,  and  religion,  and  which, 
working  in  and  through  him,  has  contributed  so 
materially  to  the  solution  of  the  problem  of  edu- 
cation. 

FroebeVs  Statements  of  the  Doctrine  of  the 
Unity  of  Spirit  and  Nature. 

The  insight  that  spirit  is  the  sole  reality,  that 
this  Absolute  Spirit  is  God,  and  that  all  beings 
possess  life  and  mind  in  so  far  as  they  participate 
in  God,  is  the  key  to  all  those  passages  in  Froe- 
bel's  writings  which  refer  to  what  he  calls  the 
fact  of  life-unity  and  the  process  of  life  unifica- 
tion. With  the  hope  of  aiding  my  readers  to 
orient  themselves  in  his  thought,  I  quote  some 
characteristic  sentences  from  the  opening  para- 
graphs of  the  Education  of  Man : 

"  In  all  things  there  lives  and  reigns  an  eter- 
nal law.  .  .  .  This  all-controlling  law  implies  as 
its  source  an  all-pervading,  energising,  self-con- 
scious, and  hence  eternal  unity.  .  .  .  This  unity 
is  God.  From  God  all  things  have  proceeded. 


*  See    Froebel's    Letters,    E.   Michaelis    and    H.  Keatley 
Moore,  p.  287. 


16  MOTHER  PLAY. 

In  God  all  things  subsist.  .  .  .  The  essential  na- 
ture of  any  given  thing  is  the  godlike  principle 
within  it;  the  destiny  of  all  things  is  to  unfold 
the  divine  essence,  and  thus  to  manifest  God.  .  .  . 
The  destiny  of  man  as  a  rational  being  is  to  be- 
come conscious  of  the  divine  essence  and  to  re- 
veal it  in  his  life  with  self-determination  and 
freedom.  ...  To  recognise  the  workings  of  this 
universal  divine  principle  in  nature  and  in  hu- 
manity is  science.  .  .  .  To  discern  its  bearings 
upon  the  development  of  rational  beings  is  the 
science  of  education.  ...  To  apply  it  practically 
to  all  kinds  of  individuals  in  all  stages  of  devel- 
opment is  the  art  of  education.  ...  To  lead  the 
pupil  to  its  conscious  revelation  is  the  goal  of 
education."  * 

•  The  correlative  insight  that  the  form  of  self- 
consciousness  is  the  key  to  the  cosmos  is  the  true 
import  of  Froebel's  doctrine  of  the  mediation  of 
opposites  and  the  explanation  of  his  recurrent 
statement  that  all  objects  must  have  a  triune 
manifestation — i.  e.,  in  and  as  unity,  in  and  as 
diversity,  in  and  as  concrete  individuality.!  The 
outcome  of  this  insight,  as  we  have  seen,  is  recog- 
nition of  Nature  as  one  vast  symbol.  Hence  we 
find  that  the  whole  section  of  the  Education  of 
Man  which  discusses  natural  science  and  mathe- 
matics is  devoted  to  elucidating  and  illustrating 
the  correspondence  between  natural  and  psychic- 
al facts  and  processes.  The  following  passages, 

*  See,  in  Mother  Play,  Introduction  to  commentaries  and 
commentary  on  The  Church. 

f  See,  in  Mother  Play,  Introduction  to  Commentaries. 


FROEBEL'S  PHILOSOPHY.  17 

selected  almost  at  random,  will  show  how  com- 
pletely Froebel's  mind  is  saturated  with  this 
thought :  « 

"  From  every  point,  from  every  object  in  na- 
ture and  life,  there  is  a  way  to  God."  * 

"  The  things  of  nature  form  a  more  beautiful 
ladder  between  heaven  and  earth  than  that  seen 
by  Jacob ;  not  a  one-sided  ladder  leading  in  one 
direction,  but  an  all-sided  one  leading  in  all  di- 
rections. Not  in  dreams  is  it  seen :  it  is  perma- 
nent ;  it  surrounds  us  on  all  sides.  It  is  decked 
with  flowers,  and  angels  with  children's  eyes 
beckon  us  towards  it ;  it  is  solid,  resting  on  a  floor 
of  crystals ;  the  inspired  singer  David  praises  and 
glorifies  it."  f 

"If  we  seek  the  inner  reason  for  this  high 
symbolic  meaning  of  the  different  individual 
phenomena  of  nature,  particularly  in  the  phases 
of  development  of  natural  objects  in  relationship 
to  the  stadia  of  human  development,  we  find  it  in 
the  fact  that  nature  and  man  have  their  origin 
in  one  and  the  same  eternal  Being,  and  that  their 
development  takes  place  in  accordance  with  the 
same  laws,  only  at  different  stages."  J 

"Everything  is  of  divine  nature,  of  divinex 
origin.  Everything  is  therefore  relatively  a 
unity,  as  God  is  absolute  unity.  Everything, 
therefore,  inasmuch  as  it  is — though  only  rela- 
tively— a  unity,  manifests  its  nature  only  in  and 
through  a  triune  revelation  and  representation 


*  Education  of  Man,  Hailmann's  translation,  p.  120. 
f  Ibid.;  p.  203.  \  Ibid.,  p.  161. 


18  MOTHER  PLAY. 

of  itself,  and  there  only  in  and  through  continu- 
ously progressive,  hence  relatively  all-sided  de- 
velopment. 

"  This  truth  is  the  foundation  of  all  contempla- 
tion, knowledge,  and  comprehension  of  nature. 
Without  it  there  can  be  no  true,  genuine,  pro- 
ductive investigation  and  knowledge  of  nature. 
Without  it  there  can  be  no  true  contemplation  of 
nature,  leading  to  insight  into  the  essential  being 
of  nature/7  * 

More  interesting  than  FroebePs  statements  of 
the  philosophic  discoveries  of  his  age  are  his 
original  applications  of  them.  These  applications 
are  of  differing  degrees  of  merit.  Some  of  them 
have  proved  dangerously  misleading  both  to  blind 
and  superstitious  disciples — and  to  critics,  who 
would  have  done  well  to  remember  Carlyle's 
warning,  that  "  it  is  well  to  see  a  great  man  be- 
fore attempting  to  oversee  him."  Only  the  stu- 
dent who  has  insight  into  the  ideas  which  ruled 
FroebePs  mind  can  justly  weigh  his  work.  He 
had  drunk  deeply  of  the  new  wine  of  thought, 
and  was  both  "  intoxicated  and  assimilated "  by 
the  draught.  Saturated  with  the  idea  that  mind 
is  the  sole  reality  and  that  all  things  must  reveal 
its  form,  he  is  sometimes  betrayed  into  puerile 
analogies  and  formal  allegories.  His  absurd 
etymologies  are  the  fruit  of  an  abortive  effort  to 
trace  the  activity  of  spirit  in  the  formation  of 

*  Education  of  Man,  Hailmann's  translation,  p.  152.  See 
in  Mother  Play,  commentaries  on  Light,  Bird,  Flower  and  Taste 
Songs,  and  Finger  Piano  and  Mottoes  to  Boy  and  Moon,  and 
Little  Maiden  and  the  Stars. 


(UNIVERSITY) 

FROEBEL'S  PHILO^efiS^FORNi^        19 

speech.  His  deduction  of  the  forms  of  crystals 
from  the  nature  of  force  is  a  somewhat  happier 
effort  to  surprise  the  footprints  of  reason.  The 
much  misunderstood  symbolism  of  the  kinder- 
garten gifts  is  an  attempt  to  utilise  this  deduction 
in  the  education  of  childhood.  Most  of  the  na- 
ture games  in  the  Mother  Play  are  presentations  to 
the  phantasy  of  childhood  of  those  symbolic  phe- 
nomena which  have  nourished  the  spiritual  life 
of  childlike  men.  The  Mother  Play,  as  a  whole, 
is  FroebeFs  most  triumphant  achievement,  and, 
despite  some  extravagances  and  many  formal 
defects,  accomplishes  its  double  purpose  of  reveal- 
ing the  onward  march  of  reason  in  the  manifesta- 
tions of  childhood,  and  of  holding  up  the  ideals  of 
reason  to  childish  imagination  and  affection. 

III.  FROEBEL'S  MOTHER  PLAY. 

The  genesis  of  the  Mother  Play  offers  no  diffi- 
culties to  the  student  who  is  familiar  with  Froe- 
bel's  life  and  who  has  entered  into  his  thought. 
Given  a  man  whose  ruling  passion  is  education, 
who  has  been  for  twenty-four  years  an  educational 
experimenter,  and  in  whose  mind  through  all 
these  years  tKe  faith  that  reason  is  present  in 
the  subconscious  activities  of  intelligence  has 
been  gathering  force,  and  the  story  of  the  Mother 
Play  is  told.  Froebel  studied  childhood  and 
motherhood  in  their  inmost  union  and  their  re- 
ciprocal influence.  He  sought  for  the  point  of 
contact  between  the  manifested  needs  of  the  one 
and  the  instinctive  effort  of  the  other  to  meet 
such  needs.  This  point  of  contact  he  found  in 


20  MOTHER  PLAY. 

nursery  rhymes  and  in  the  unrhymed  games 
which  had  been  nursery  favourites  for  unknown 
ages.  He  denned  to  himself  the  unconscious 
ideal  which  created  these  rhymes  and  games,  and 
set  himself  the  task  of  giving  it  a  conscious  em- 
bodiment; hence,  the  differences  between  the 
games  in  the  Mother  Play  and  their  prototypes 
reveal  to  the  student  what  the  instinct  of  child- 
hood and  maternity  has  blindly  sought,  and  ex- 
plain why  its  aim  has  not  been  adequately  real- 
ised.* 

*  With  the  hope  of  aiding  young  mothers  and  inexperienced 
kindergartners,  I  venture  to  suggest  a  few  questions  which  may 
serve  as  a  general  plan  for  the  study  of  each  song,  motto,  and 
commentary  in  the  Mother  Play. 

1.  In  what  manifestation  of  the  child  has  this  song  its  point 
of  departure  ? 

2.  What  analogous  manifestations  occur  upon  higher  planes 
of  development  ? 

3.  What  are  the  psychologic  implications  of  these  manifes- 
tations? 

4.  Towards  what  spiritual  goal  do  they  point? 

5.  What  has  been  the  response,  of  instinctive  motherhood  to 
the  indicated  need? 

6.  What  is  Froebel's  response  ? 

7.  What  differences  are  there  between  the  mother's  response 
and  Froebel's  response,  and  wherein  does  the  latter  show  an  ad- 
vance upon  the  former  ? 

8.  What  will  be  the  probable  effect  of  a  failure  to  meet  the 
indicated  need  ? 

9.  What  are  the  limitations  of  the  principle  which  this  play 
embodies  ? 

10.  Wherein  does  this  play  show  an  advance  in  idea  upon 
its  predecessors  ? 

11.  What  method  and  what  means  arc  employed  by  Froebel 
to  develop  this  idea  ( 


FROEBEL'S  PHILOSOPHY.  21 

t 

In  one  of  his  very  suggestive  notes  to  Ro- 
senkraiiz's  Philosophy  of  Education,  Dr.  Harris 
points  out  the  fact  that  Mother  Goose's  melodies 
give  in  embryonic  form  types  of  character  and 
situation  whose  adequate  embodiment  is  found 
in  higher  literature.  He  adds : 

"A  scale  thus  extending  from  the  earth  to 
the  fixed  stars  of  genius  furnishes  pictures  of 
human  life  of  all  degrees  of  concreteness.  The 
meagre  and  abstract  outline  is  given  in  the  nur- 
sery tale,  and  the  deep,  comprehensive  grasp  of 
the  situation,  with  all  its  motives,  is  found  in 
Shakespeare.  The  summation  of  the  events  of 
life  in  Solomon  Grundy  has  been  compared  to 
the  epitome  furnished  by  Shakespeare  in  the 
Seven  Ages;  and  the  disastrous  voyage  of  the 
Three  Men  of  Gotham  is  made  a  universal  type 
of  human  disaster  arising  from  rash  adven- 
ture." 

In  like  manner  the  story  of  Little  Boy  Blue 
suggests  the  effects  of  slothful  neglect  of  duty ; 
the  man  who,  having  scratched  his  eyes  out  in 
one  bramble  bush,  scratches  them  in  by  jump- 
ing into  another,  is  a  discoverer  of  that  circular 
process  by  which  the  recoil  of  the  deed  saves 
the  doer;  Jack  Homer  is  the  earliest  literary 
representative  of  that  large  class  of  persons  who, 
reaping  the  advantage  of  deeds  not  their  own, 
plume  themselves  on  their  fancied  achievement ; 
the  Man  in  the  Wilderness  is  the  prototype  of 
all  foolish  questioners  seeking  solution  of  un- 
real problems ;  and  the  poor  woman  who  couldn't 
keep  quiet  on  "  victuals  and  drink  "  crudely  em- 


22  MOTHER  PLAY. 

bodies  the  yearnings  of  a  soul  which  may  not 
dare  to  live  on  bread  alone.* 

It  is  because  of  their  truly  rational  content 
that  traditional  nursery  rhymes  have  endured 
the  test  of  survival  and  merit  the  name  of  genu- 
ine literature.!  It  is  because  many  books  written 
for  children  lack  this  content  that  they  pervert 
and  destroy  the  literary  sense.  Most  baneful  of 
all  these  abortive  products  of  unintelligent  minds 
are  the  books  which  are  forever  administering 
sugar-coated  pills  of  useful  information  and 
moral  advice. 

I  am  anxious  to  make  this  distinction  between 
true  and  false  literature  for  childhood  very  clear, 
because,  singularly  enough,  advocates  of  the 
Mother  Play  have  been  accused  of  doing  the  very 
thing  they  most  strenuously  condemn.  Such  ac- 
cusation has  arisen  from  the  fact  that  the  ac- 
cusers have  failed  to  detect  the  difference  between 
reason  implicit  and  reason  explicit,  or,  differently 
stated,  because  they  have  construed  the  state- 
ment that  nursery  literature  should  present  uni- 
versal and  typical  facts  to  mean  that  little  chil- 
dren should  be  expected  to  understand  universal 
and  necessary  truths.  The  physical  relation  of 
man  to  the  lower  vertebrates  suggests  a  parallel 
which  may  interpret  the  evolution  of  rational 
ideas.  "In  the  snake,"  says  Emerson,  "all  the 
organs  are  sheathed ;  no  hands,  no  feet,  no  fins, 

*  See  Mrs.  A.  D.  T.  Whitney's  Mother  Goose  for  Grown 
Folks,  from  which  I  borrow  these  interpretations, 
f  Appendix,  Note  II. 


FROEBEL'S  PHILOSOPHY.  23 

no  wings.  In  bird  and  beast  the  organs  are  re- 
leased and  begin  to  play.  In  man  they  are  all 
unbound  and  full  of  joyful  action.  With  this 
unswaddling  he  receives  the  absolute  illumina- 
tion we  call  reason,  and  thereby  true  liberty."  * 

Even  simpler  than  the  rhymes  which  furnish 
primordial  types  of  character  and  situation  are 
the  nursery  plays  which  incite  the  first  feeble 
stirrings  of  self-consciousness,  and  appeal  to  the 
dawning  sense  of  human  relationships.  Archaic 
games  like  Knock  at  the  Door,  Peep  In,  Here 
sits  the  Lord  Mayor,  Dance,  Thumbkin,  The 
Little  Pigs  that  went  to  Market,  and  the  favour- 
ite nursery  trick  of  tugging  at  the  baby's  nose  or 
ear  and  then  pretending  to  show  it,  are  manifestly 
attempts  to  call  attention  to  the  different  parts 
of  the  body,  and  stir  some  premonition  of  its 
membered  unity.  Bye  Baby  Bunting,  Father's  a 
Nobleman  Mother's  a  Queen,  Dance  Little  Baby, 
interpret  to  the  heart  of  the  child  his  own  love 
for  father  and  mother,  and  their  love  and  care 
of  him.  Neighbour  How  do  you  Do,  introduces 
him  to  social  life.  Pat-a-Cake,  The  Miller  of  Dee, 
Oats  Peas  Beans,  When  I  was  a  Shoemaker, 
Here  I  Brew  and  Here  I  Bake,  are  crude  pictures 
of  the  activities  of  the  workaday  world.  The 
rhyme  of  The  Church  the  Steeple  and  all  Good 
People,  responds  to  infantile  wonder  at  the  sound 
of  church  bells  and  the  sight  of  hurrying  con- 
gregations. Such  games  as  Hide  and  Seek,  The 
Five  Knights,  and  others  of  like  kind,  stir  and  sat- 

*  Society  and  Solitude,  p.  29. 


24  MOTHER  PLAY. 

isfy  the  craving  for  recognition.  My  Lady  Wind, 
I  had  a  Little  Sister,  Hickamore,  Hickamore,  and 
many  rhymes  of  bird,  beast,  and  flower,  owe  their 
popularity  to  their  animism.  Add  to  these  differ- 
ent classes  of  rhymes  and  plays  the  stories  which, 
like  The  Old  Woman  and  her  Pig,  The  House 
that  Jack  Built,  and  The  Tree  in  the  Ground, 
present  events  in  a  crudely  related  series,  and 
jingles  such  as  If  all  the  Seas  were  One  Sea, 
which  remotely  suggest  the  underlying  unity  of 
all  separate  things,  and  we  shall  have  before  us 
that  deposit  of  unconscious  reason  from  which 
Froebel  drew  the  material  of  his  Mother  Play. 
He  has  attempted  to  preserve  what  was  good,  and 
to  omit  what  was  crude  and  coarse  in  the  prod- 
ucts of  instinct ;  to  supply  missing  links ;  to  pre- 
sent a  series  of  games  wherein  each  is  organically 
related  to  all  the  others,  and  by  means  of  dramatic 
and  graphic  representation,  poetry,  and  music  to 
win  for  the  ideals  embodied  in  these  games  a  con- 
trolling power  over  the  imagination.  He  has 
been,  on  the  whole,  successful  in  his .  choice  of 
subjects,  in  his  pictures,  and  in  his  explanation 
of  motives.  He  has  been  unsuccessful  in  his 
poems  and  music.  His  merit  is  that  of  a  path 
breaker,  and  his  claim  upon  our  gratitude  that 
he  has  shown  us  how  to  abet  the  activity  of 
the  inwardly  self  -  evolving  ideal,  and  hence 
without  detriment  to  the  child's  spontaneity  to 
influence  the  growth  of  character  and  the  trend 
of  thought.* 

*  Appendix,  Note  III. 


FROEBEL'S  PHILOSOPHY.  25 

It  has  been  said  that  "  evolution  implies  invo- 
lution and  ad  volution."  *  The  remark  is  as  true  of 
spiritual  evolution  as  of  physical.  The  trend  of 
development  suggests  the  character  and  destiny 
of  the  developing  object.  It  is  therefore  from 
human  history  that  we  learn  to  know  human  na- 
ture. The  typical  deeds  of  man  as  revealed  in 
history  are  the  creation  of  language,  the  erection 
of  social  institutions,  the  development  of  the  prac- 
tical and  fine  arts,  and  the  pursuit  of  science  and 
philosophy.  If  we  desire  to  understand  any  given 
people  we  study  its  speech,  its  type  of  family  life, 
its  organisation  of  industry,  its  form  of  govern- 
ment, its  religious  ritual,  its  architecture,  sculp- 
ture, painting,  poetry,  and  music,  its  scientific 
theories,  and  its  metaphysics.  In  these  great  prod- 
ucts man  reveals  himself,  and  we  are  sure  that, 
while  they  must  vary  and  improve  in  type,  they 
express  the  permanent  and  characteristic  energies 
of  the  human  spirit.  The  great  object  of  child- 
study  should  therefore  be  to  discover  the  embry- 
onic forms  of  these  moving  principles  of  the  soul. 
The  duty  of  education  is  to  give  them  due  nur- 
ture. The  aim  of  education  should  be  to  insure 
correspondence  between  the  individual  and  his 
spiritual  environment,  and  to  fit  him  for  partici-i 
pation  in  the  universal  life. 

It  was  because  simple  mother-wit  had  tried, 
however  blindly,  to  accomplish  these  purposes, 
that  Froebel  was  able  to  learn  from  mothers  how 
to  educate  the  child.  It  is  because  in  the  Mother 

*  Drummond,  Ascent  of  Man. 


26  MOTHER  PLAY. 

Play  and  the  Kindergarten  Gifts  he  has  lifted 
their  instinctive  procedure  into  the  light  of  clear 
consciousness,  that  they  in  turn  should  learn  of 
him. 

To  childhood  and  motherhood  Froebel  owes 
not  only  the  material  of  the  Mother  Play,  but, 
what  is  at  least  equally  important,  the  idea  of 
utilising  imitation  as  a  main  factor  in  nursery 
education.  His  pictures,  mottoes,  and  commen- 
taries, however,  prove  beyond  dispute  that,  like 
other  geniuses,  he  interprets  and  improves  what 
he  borrows,  and  that  his  use  of  imitation  is  no 
haphazard  proceeding,  but  the  practical  outcome 
of  his  psychologic  acumen.  In  the  illustrations 
to  Pat-a-Pat,  The  Weather  Yaiie,  Mowing-Grass, 
Tick-Tack,  Joiner,  and  Little  Gardener,  the  child 
is  shown  in  the  act  of  imitation ;  and  since  Froe- 
bel, in  his  Introduction  to  the  Commentaries, 
urges  students  above  all  else  to  study  its  pictures, 
it  is  evident  that  by  his  repeated  portrayal  of  imi- 
tative activity,  he  means  to  emphasise  its  impor- 
tance. In  the  commentaries  to  the  Weather  Vane, 
Mowing-Grass,  and  Little  Gardener  occur  the  fol- 
lowing remarks : 

"  What  adult  deed  is  there  that  children  will 
not  at  once  imitate  ?  Therefore  be  careful,  you 
grown-up  people,  what  you  do  in  presence  of 
these  little  ones."  (Weather  Vane.) 

"  The  child  will  understand  all  the  better  the 
work  of  grown-up  people  if  by  imitation  he  is 
made  a  participant  in  it."  (Mowing-Grass.) 

"  The  tendency  to  imitation  in  children  should 
be  most  carefully  cultivated.  Such  culture  will 


FROEBEL'S  PHILOSOPHY.  27 

lighten  by  one  half  the  work  of  education.  The 
mother  who  utilises  imitation  at  the  proper 
stage  of  development  will  accomplish  by  a  touch 
light  as  a  feather  what  later  she  could  hardly 
do  with  a  hundredweight  of  words."  (Little 
Gardener.) 

In  the  motto  to  the  Weather  Vane,  which  is 
the  first  characteristic  game  in  the  Mother  Play, 
Froebel  clearly  points  to  imitation  as  the  practi- 
cal key  to  the  whole  book  : 

"  Is  thy  child  to  apprehend  another's  deed  ? 
Then  he  must  repeat  this  deed.  Herein  [i.  e.,  in 
the  necessity  of  reproduction  to  mental  assimila- 
tion] is  deeply  rooted  his  eager  effort  to  imitate 
the  persons  and  things  about  him." 

Froebel's  appreciation  of  the  significance  of 
imitative  activities  is  shown  even  more  conclu- 
sively in  his  deed  than  in  his  words.  All  of  his 
games  are  imitative  in  the  sense  that  the  child 
repeats  a  movement  or  series  of  movements  made 
by  mother  or  kiiidergartner.*  Most  of  them  are 
also  imitative,  in  the  sense  that  the  child  either 
reproduces  the  activities  of  persons  and  things 
about  him,  or  dramatises  and  thus  relives  events 
in  his  own  history. 

Within  the  past  few  years  the  attention  of 
psychologists  has  been  directed  with  increasing 
interest  to  a  study  of  the  nature,  the  scope,  and 
the  meaning  of  imitative  activities.  In  the  light 
of  these  investigations  the  originality  of  Froebel/s 

*  As  children  mature  they  are  encouraged  to  originate  their 
mimetic  representations. 


28  MOTHER   PLAY. 

attempt  to  utilise  imitation  in  the  education  of 
infancy  and  childhood  is  clearly  disclosed,  and  I 
should  be  doing  the  Mother  Play  a  great  injustice 
if  I  failed  to  quote  the  following  passages  from 
Professors  James,  Royce,  and  Baldwin : 

"  The  dramatic  impulse,  the  tendency  to  pre- 
tend one  is  some  one  else,  contains  this  pleasure 
of  mimicry  as  one  of  its  elements.  Another  ele- 
ment seems  to  be  a  peculiar  sense  of  power  in 
stretching  one's  own  personality  so  as  to  include 
that  of  a  strange  person.  In  young  children  this 
instinct  often  knows  no  bounds.  For  a  few 
months  in  one  of  my  children's  third  year  he 
literally  hardly  ever  appeared  in  his  own  person. 

...  If  you  called  him  by  his  name,  H ,  you 

invariably  got  the  reply :  '  I'm  not  H ;  Fm  a 

hyena,  or  a  horse-car/  or  whatever  the  feigned 
object  might  be."  * 

"  It  is  an  odd  fact,  and  one  of  vast  significance, 
that  all  of  us  come  by  our  developed  personal 
self -consciousness  through  very  decidedly  imita- 
tive processes.  Of  this  fact  a  later  discussion 
may  give  a  fuller  account.  It  is  enough  now  to 
remind  observers  of  children  how  full  of  proud 
self -consciousness  is  the  little  boy  who  drives  a 
horse,  or  who  plays  soldier,  or  who  is  himself  a 
horse,  or  a  bird,  or  other  creature  in  his  play.  To 
be  what  we  call  his  real  self  is,  for  his  still  chaotic 
and  planless  inner  consciousness,  so  long  as  it  is 

*  Professor  James's  Psychology,  vol.  ii,  p.  409.  Quoted  in 
Professor  Royce's  article,  The  Imitative  Functions  and  their 
Place  in  Human  Nature,  Century  Magazine,  May,  1894. 


FROEBEL'S  PHILOSOPHY.  29 

not  set  in  order  by  his  imitativeness,  the  same  as 
to  be  nobody  in  particular.  But  to  be  a  horse,  or 
a  coachman,  or  a  soldier,  or  the  hero  of  a  favourite 
story,  or  a  fairy,  that  is  to  be  somebody,  for  that 
sort  of  self  one  first  witnesses  from  without,  or 
finds  portrayed  in  the  fascinating  tale,  and  then 
imitatively  assimilates,  so  that  one  thereupon 
conceives  this  new  self  from  within,  and  rejoices 
in  one's  prowess  as  one  does  so."  * 

"  Nothing  less  than  the  child's  personality  is 
at  stake  in  the  method  and  matter  of  its  imita- 
tions ;  for  the  '  self '  is  but  the  form  or  process  in 
which  the  influences  surrounding  the  child  take 
on  their  new  individuality.  .  .  . 

"It  is  not  only  likely — it  is  inevitable — that 
he  make  up  his  personality,  under  limitations  of 
heredity,  by  imitation,  out  of  the  '  copy 9  set  in 
the  actions,  temper,  emotions,  of  the  persons  who 
build  around  him  the  social  inclosure  of  his 
childhood. "  \ 

"The  point  is  this:  the  child's  personality 
grows;  growth  is  always  by  action;  he  clothes 
upon  himself  the  scenes  of  his  life,  and  acts 
them  out ;  so  he  grows  in  what  he  is,  what  he 
understands,  and  what  he  is  able  to  perform."  J 

The  important  truth  stated  and  illustrated  in 
these  several  passages  may  be  briefly  re-stated  as 
follows:  The  child  creates  himself.  He  creates 
himself  by  reproducing  his  environment  within 

*  Professor  Royce,  ibid. 

t  Mental  Development,  by  James  Mark  Baldwin,  p.  357. 

\  Ibid.,  p.  361. 


30  MOTHER  PLAY. 

himself.  The  first  form  of  reproduction  is  imita- 
tion. Hence,  imitation  is  the  true  point  of  de- 
parture both  for  educational  psychology  and  for 
a  wise  nurture  of  childhood. 

Confining  ourselves  to  the  practical  corollaries 
of  the  indicated  thesis,  it  is  evident  that  the  prime 
duties  of  parents  are  to  protect  the  child  from  bad 
models  and  to  supply  him  with  good  ones.  They 
should  also  observe  with  care  what  special  persons, 
objects,  and  actions  are  most  frequently  imitated, 
for  in  such  imitations  the  child  reveals  the  native 
bias  of  his  temperament,  indicates  the  line  of  his 
possibilities,  and  suggests  the  dangers  to  which 
he  is  prone.  They  should  divert  attention  from 
persons  or  things  which  monopolise  imagination 
and  threaten  to  derange  the  balance  of  character 
by  subjecting  it  to  the  tyranny  of  too  few  ideas, 
and  in  proportion  to  the  increasing  power  of 
assimilating  alien  experience  they  should  procure 
for  the  child  that  variety  which  is  "  the  soul  of 
originality  and  the  fountain  of  the  ethical  life." 
For  what  is  originality  but  the  synthesis  of  a 
manifold  experience  ?  What  is  character  but  "  a 
completely  fashioned  will "  ?  How  shall  will  be 
fashioned  save  by  free  choices  ?  And  how  shall 
free  choices  be  made  unless  the  mind  is  con- 
fronted by  varying — yes,  even  antagonistic — pos- 
sibilities of  conduct  ? 

When,  however,  we  shall  have  done  all  these 
things,  will  there  be  nothing  more  which  we  may 
do  ?  Does  the  child  need  no  help  in  his  attempts 
to  portray  the  life  around  him  ?  If  "  nothing 
less  than  his  personality  is  at  stake  in  the  meth- 


FROEBEL'S  PHILOSOPHY.  31 

od  and  matter  of  his  imitations,"  should  we  allow 
him  to  reproduce  blindly  "the  actions,  temper, 
emotions  of  the  persons  who  build  around  him 
the  social  inclosure  of  his  childhood  "  ?  Can  we 
so  perfectly  protect  him  that  he  will  see  nothing- 
he  may  not  safely  imitate  ?  Would  it  be  wise 
so  to  protect  him  even  if  it  were  possible  ?  Is  it 
not  better  to  put  into  his  hands  a  clew  to  the 
labyrinth  of  experience  by  singling  out  such  typ- 
ical phenomena  of  nature  and  human  life  as  are 
within  his  power  of  apprehension  and  leading 
him  to  reproduce  them  ?  Is  not  this  precisely 
what  Froebel  has  done  in  the  Mother  Play,  and 
through  doing  it  has  he  not  defined  the  point  of 
departure  for  all  true  education  ?  * 

From  those  who  have  had  occasion  to  observe 
the  influence  of  Froebel's  plays  I  have  no  fear  of 
the  answers  I  shall  receive  to  these  questions.  My 
hope  is  that  in  the  near  future  their  influence 
may  be  far  more  widely  tested,  and  that  thousands 
of  fathers  and  mothers  may  see  for  themselves 
how  through  these  mimetic  pictures  of  nature 
and  human  life  the  world  into  which  the  child  is 
born  is  born  again  in  him,  and  mere  external  sur- 
roundings are  transfigured  into  an  ideal  environ- 
ment created  by  his  own  activity. 

Turning  our  attention  from  the  use  of  imita- 
tion to  its  theoretic  implication,  we  find  ourselves 
once  more  face  to  face  with  that  great  insight 
which  has  determined  the  orbit  of  speculative 

*  For  the  fuller  discussion  of  this  subject,  see  my  book  on 
Symbolic  Education,  Chapters  V  and  VII. 


32  MOTHER  PLAY. 

philosophy,  and  which,  acting  upon  the  mind  of 
Froebel,  created  the  Mother  Play  and  the  Kinder- 
garten. We  have  recognised  in  imitation  an 
act  of  spiritual  assimilation,  and  since  "  between 
things  heterogeneous  there  can  be  no  intercom- 
munion," such  assimilation  clearly  presupposes 
identity  of  nature  between  the  person  imitating 
and  the  persons  or  objects  imitated.  It  is  because 
the  true  self  in  each  individual  is  identical  with 
the  true  self  in  all  individuals  that  each  one  of 
us  may  repeat  another's  deed.  It  is  because  this 
colossal  self  is  also  present  in  nature  that  the 
child  can  repeat  the  activities  of  natural  objects, 
and  the  man  reduce  the  phenomena  of  nature  to 
spiritual  principles.  The  animism  of  little  chil- 
dren is  an  expression  of  the  soul's  prescient  con- 
viction that  there  is  but  one  real  force — the  force 
of  will.  Their  tireless  imitation  hints  the  deeper 
truth  that  all  living  objects  participate  in  one 
great  life,  all  rational  subjects  in  one  great  mind.* 
All  fires  are  fed  from  the  sun,  and  all  streams 
from  the  sea.  Yet  one  torch  may  light  another, 
and  every  tiny  streamlet  which  grows  into  a 
great  river  is  fed  by  tributary  streams,  by  snows 
descending  from  the  hills,  by  springs  welling  up 
from  the  earth.  Cut  off  from  these  sources  of 
supply  and  replenishment,  the  rivulet  shrinks  to 
a  thread.  Lacking  the  outlet  through  which  it 
gives  away  what  it  has  received,  it  loses  itself  in 
marshes.  In  like  manner,  all  true  life,  all  true 
thought,  all  true  love,  are  divine  life,  thought, 

*  Appendix,  Note  IV. 


FROEBEL'S  PHILOSOPHY.  33 

and  love.    Yet  the  divine  energy  must  be  com- 
municated to    each  individual  through    nature 
and  through  his  fellow-men,  and  it  is  only  as  the  s> 
"  universe  grows   I "  that  the  I  grows  into   the 
image  of  God. 

Discussing  the  symbolism  of  the  ball,  Froebel 
calls  attention  to  the  fact  that  a  spherical  mirror 
suspended  in  the  air  will  reflect  what  is  above, 
below,  and  around  it.  The  uninitiated  kinder- 
gartner  hurries  over  this  to  her  meaningless  sug- 
gestion, to  concentrate  her  attention  upon  the 
practical  exercises  which  follow  it.  The  initi- 
ated reader  recognises  that  Froebel  is  trying  to  s 
illustrate  the  thought  of  Leibnitz,  that  "  each 
soul  is  a  monad,  which  by  its  self -activity  repeats 
for  itself  the  universe."  This  insight  is  the  key 
to  Froebel's  recognition  of  the  true  meaning  of 
imitation,  and  of  his  practical  attempt  to  make 
that  rock  of  offence  the  corner  stone  of  the  edu- 
cational edifice. 

No  paradox  of  mind  is  more  interesting  than 
that  which  relates  to  the  connection  between 
imitation,  moral  freedom,  and  intellectual  origi- 
nality. The  child  who  imitates  any  alien  deed 
has  formed  an  ideal,  and  energises  to  realise  it. 
This  is  the  beginning  of  moral  freedom.  He  has 
inferred  a  causal  energy  as  the  begetter  of  a  per- 
ceptible effect.  This  is  the  beginning  of  intel- 
lectual freedom.  All  higher  degrees  of  moral 
freedom  will  be  achieved  by  ascent  from  the  imi- 
tation of  external  deeds  to  conscious  reproduction 
of  the  ideals  which  lie  back  of  such  deeds.  All 
higher  degrees  of  intellectual  freedom  will  be 


34:  MOTHER  PLAY. 

attained  by  wider  applications  of  the  idea  of 
causality.  For  to  determine  actions  through 
ideals  is  to  be  self -determining,  and  hence  free, 
'  and  to  make  a  causal  synthesis  of  the  elements 
of  experience  is  to  win  intellectual  freedom,  or, 
in  other  words,  to  become  original.  He  who 
makes  a  synthesis  of  experience  within  a  definite 
sphere  becomes  original  in  that  sphere.  He  who 
makes  a  synthesis  of  all  causal  energies  and  com- 
prehends their  genesis,  achieves  absolute  origi- 
nality. 

The  significance  of  the  Mother  Play  has  long 
been  recognised  by  Froebel's  disciples,  but  the 
current  error  of  regarding  it  as  exclusively  a 
book  for  little  children  has  caused  it  to  be  too 
generally  ignored  by  parents,  teachers,  and  stu- 
dents of  educational  psychology.  Froebel  him- 
self calls  it  a  "  family  book,"  describes  it  as  con- 
taining poems  and  pictures  whose  aim  is  the  noble 
nurture  of  child  life,  and  adopts  as  its  motto  the 
saying  of  Schiller,  "  Deep  meaning  oft  lies  hid  in 
childish  play."  In  the  original,  the  volume  con- 
tains two  hundred  and  seven  pages,*  fifty  pages  of 
which  are  given  up  to  pictures  for  the  child ;  fifty 
pages  contain  each  a  poem  for  the  mother  and  a 
poem  for  the  child ;  and  the  remaining  one  hun- 
dred and  seven  pages  are  addressed  in  part  to  the 
mother  alone  and  in  part  to  mother  and  father. 
Seven  introductory  poems  seek  to  express  the 
mother's  feelings  as  she  gazes  upon  her  firstborn 
child :  her  deep  sense  of  unity  with  him ;  her 

*  Exclusive  of  music. 


FROEBEL'S  PHILOSOPHY.  35 

blessedness  in  contemplating  him ;  her  impulse 
to  play  with  him  ;  her  joy  in  his  developing  life ; 
her  instinctive  effort  to  foster  this  life ;  and  her 
premonition  of  the  truth  that,  as  he  depends  upon  s 
her  for  physical  nourishment,  so  his  soul  must 
be  fed  from  her's.  Twelve  pages  are  devoted  to 
a  brief  statement  of  the  psychologic  insights 
which  are  the  creative  source  of  all  FroebeFs 
educational  work.  The  rest  of  the  book  consists 
of  commentaries  on  the  pictures  and  songs.  In 
these  commentaries  Froebel  throws  light  upon 
such  topics  as  the  impulse  of  movement,  what  it 
implies,  and  how  it  shall  be  met ;  imitation,  its 
relationship  to  mental  evolution,  and  the  possi- 
bility of  utilising  it  in  education ;  the  nature  of 
sensation  and  the  right  training  of  sense ;  the 
significance  of  gesture  as  a  means  of  develop- 
ment ;  the  love  of  rhythm  and  its  recoil  upon 
thought  and  character;  childish  animism  and 
the  spiritual  truth  to  which  it  points ;  the  love 
of  hiding,  its  implications  and  its  dangers ;  the 
path  of  ascent  from  simple  movement  to  produc- 
tive and  creative  activity ;  the  evolution  of  love 
and  service  from  physical  dependence ;  the  con- 
temporaneous development  of  self-consciousness  N 
and  social  sympathy ;  the  influence  of  praise  and 
blame,  and  the  genesis  of  conscience.  All  of 
these  separate  beads  of  insight  are  strung  upon 
the  double  thread  of  relationship  between  the 
child's  vanishing  selves  to  his  permanent  and\ 
central  self,  and  the  identity  of  this  central  self 
with  the  colossal  self  incarnate  in  the  social 
whole  to  which  as  member  he  belongs.  The  ob- 


36  MOTHER  PLAY. 

ject  of  the  book  is,  on  the  one  hand,  to  describe 
those  invasions  of  the  seemingly  foreign  realms  of 
nature  and  human  life  by  which  the  child  wins 
his  personality,  and,  on  the  other,  to  point  out  to 
the  mother  how,  by  responding  to  a  series  of  in- 
dicated needs,  she  may  come  to  his  aid  in  every 
crisis  of  the  spiritual  battle  for  liberty.  It  is 
therefore  a  book  of  child  study  and  child  nur- 
ture. For  what  is  the  object  of  child  study,  if 
not  recognition  of  dramatic  moments  in  the  pro- 
cess of  psychogenesis  ?  and  in  what  consists  the 
art  of  nurture,  if  not  in  directing  and  shaping 
the  ideals  through  which  habits  are  created  and 
character  formed  ? 

It  would  seem  that  in  an  age  which  is  begin- 
ning to  include  child  study  among  the  sciences 
the  Mother  Play  might  have  a  message  for  all 
thoughtful  persons.  It  should  at  the  very  least 
be  read  and  considered  in  order  that  it  may  be 
intelligently  condemned.  For  mothers  and  kin- 
dergartners  its  value  can  scarcely  be  exaggerated. 
It  opens  a  path  of  sympathetic  approach  to  ques- 
tions of  the  highest  practical  importance,  yet 
which,  when  discussed  abstractly,  repel  young 
and  inexperienced  students.  By  presenting  con- 
crete illustrations  of  psychologic  truths  it  rouses 
interest  and  kindles  thought.  By  connecting 
these  truths  with  the  daily  life  of  the  nursery 
and  kindergarten  it  renders  its  students  more 
observant  of  the  manifestations  of  children  and 
more  responsive  to  their  needs.  By  its  reiterated 
suggestions  of  correspondence  between  the  sen- 
sible and  spiritual  worlds  it  quickens  imagina- 


FROEBEL'S   PHILOSOPHY.  37 

tion  and  leads  to  a  loving  intimacy  with  nature.  ^ 
By  emphasising  the  essential  phases  of  mental 
evolution,  and  presenting  in  embryonic  form 
the  ideals  which  have  created  all  literature,  it 
awakens  interest  in  science,  history,  poetry,  and 
philosophy,  and  breathes  into  the  soul  the  crav- 
ing for  wider  culture.  Hence,  in  every  training 
school  where  it  is  made  an  integral  part  of  the 
course  of  instruction  it  creates  collateral  classes 
for  the  study  of  the  several  subjects  enumerated, 
and  its  stream  of  influence  mingles  with  that 
flowing  from  the  ideal  of  university  extension. 

That  Froebel  was  a  born  educator  no  one  who 
studies  his  life  can  doubt.  His  struggling  intro- 
spective childhood  is  one  long  record  of  self-de- 
velopment and  self -discipline.  In  youth  his  first 
conscious  aspiration  is  that,  while  others  give 
men  bread,  he  may  be  permitted  to  give  men 
themselves.  When  he  stands  for  the  first  time 
among  his  pupils  in  Gruner's  school,  he  feels  to 
his  own  surprise  like  a  fish  in  water  or  a  bird  in 
the  air.  At  Yverdun  his  penetrating  glance  dis- 
cerns at  once  the  strength  and  weakness  of  Pesta- 
lozzi.  When,  roused  to  the  sense  of  her  degra- 
dation, Germany  arms  herself  to  avenge  the  de- 
feat of  Jena  and  the  treaty  of  Tilsit,  the  spirit  of 
the  ideal  teacher  makes  Froebel  a  soldier;  for^ 
"  how/'  he  says,  "  shall  I  hereafter  seek  without  a  ) 
blush  to  inspire  the  love  of  country  if  I  fail  my 
country  in  her  hour  of  need  ?  "•  Too  true  to  claim 
the  right  to  educate  until  he  has  defined  to  him-  ^ 
self  his  aim  and  method,  he  ponders  in  solitude 
until  his  thought  grows  clear.  Too  brave  to  hesi- 


38  MOTHER  PLAY. 

tate  for  want  of  practical  means  when  once  the 
life-giving  ideal  has  dawned  in  his  mind,  he  dis- 
appears from  Berlin,  walks  on  foot  to  Griesheim, 
spends  his  last  penny  for  a  loaf  of  bread  at  Er- 
furt, and  deliberately  begins  the  work  which 
later  grows  into  the  great  school  at  Keilhau.  His 
thought  is  contagious,  and  moved  by  its  compel- 
ling power  his  friends  give  up  their  own  plans  of 
life  and  become  the  servants  of  his  educational 
idea.  In  his  darkest  hour  his  brother  Christian 
puts  at  his  disposal  a  hard-earned  fortune.  In  a 
single  interview  he  so  impresses  himself  upon  a 
gifted  woman  that  she  responds  to  his  unique 
love  letter  asking  her  to  help  a  great  work  by 
'  promptly  turning  her  back  on  a  life  of  ease  and 
gladly  accepting  poverty,  struggle,  and  miscon- 
ception. His  disciples  develop  into  missionaries 
and  apostles.  For  four  years  Middendorff  sepa- 
rates himself  from  wife  and  children ;  and  at  a 
single  word  from  the  master,  Barop  takes  his 
pilgrim  staff  in  hand  and,  with  five  dollars  in  his 
pocket  and  owning  only  the  coat  upon  his  back, 
marches  resolutely  to  the  help  of  the  good  cause 
in  Switzerland.  The  parent  school  at  Keilhau 
grows  and  nourishes,  is  attacked,  maligned,  almost 
destroyed,  but  putting  forth  its  full  strength 
wins  a  proud  triumph  over  its  slanderers.  Its 
founder,  however,  hears  an  inner  call  to  a  new 
work.  Taught  by  experience  that  schools  fail 
because  infancy  and  early  childhood  have  been 
neglected,  he  consecrates  his  mature  years  to  writ- 
ing a  book  of  nursery  songs,  and  to  the  creation 
of  the  gifts  and  occupations  of  the  kindergarten. 


FROEBEL'S  PHILOSOPHY.  39 

In  his  old  age  he  plays  with  little  children,  and 
communicates  to  young  girls  the  fire  of  his  own 
enthusiasm.  "  He  is  mad,"  decide  the  Liebenstein 
peasants  as  they  watch  him  leading  forth  the 
troop  of  barefooted  children  whom  he  educates 
through  song  and  play.  "  He  is  a  prophet,"  de- 
clares the  thoughtful  Diesterweg,  "  and  has  seen 
as  man  never  saw  before  into  the  heart  of  the 
child." 

What  Froebel  saw  in  the  heart  of  the  child  he 
has  told  us  in  the  Mother  Play.  In  this  precious 
volume  he  "  deciphers  all  that  the  child  feels  in 
cipher,"  and  translates  for  mothers  the  hiero- 
glyphic of  their  own  instinctive  play.  As  a 
child's  book  this  little  collection  of  songs  and 
games  is  unique  in  literature.  As  a  mother's 
book  likewise  it  has  no  ancestry  and  no  posterity. 
It  is  the  greatest  book  for  little  children  and  the 
greatest  book  for  mothers  in  the  world.  When 
all  women  shall  have  laid  to  heart  its  lessons,  the 
ideal  which  hovers  before  us  in  the  immortal  pic- 
tures of  the  Madonna  will  be  realised,  for  then,  at 
last,  each  mother  will  revere  and  nurture  in  her 
child  the  divine  humanity.  Am  I  told  that  I 
dream  impossible  things  ?  I  repel  the  sugges- 
tion of  doubters,  themselves  deceived  by  the 
"  hypocritic  days,"  and  fortify  my  soul  with  the 
assurance  of  the  prophetess  who,  sitting  serene 
in  the  midst  of  the  revolving  wheel  of  time,  de- 
clares : 

"  Den  lieb  ich  der  unmogliches  begehrt  !  " 

SUSAN  E.  BLOW. 

A™,  N.  Y,  jr.*/** 


OP  THE 

UNIVERSITY 


MOTHER  COMMUNINGS. 


MOTHER    COMMUNINGS. 


i. 

FEELINGS  OF  A  MOTHER  CONTEMPLATING  HER 
FIRSTBORN  CHILD. 

GREAT  Life  of  all  !  my  grateful  heart 

Turns  first  to  thee 

With  sense  of  kinship  and  new  dignity ; 
For  is  it  not  through  my  glad  pain 
That  once  again, 

As  in  creation's  morn, 
From  out  thine  over-brooding  life 

A  soul  is  born  ? 

Dear  husband — father  of  my  child — 

From  the  first  thought 

Which  gave  us  each  to  each,  we  have  been  taught, 
By  love,  love's  sacredness  and  strength ; 
But  now,  at  length, 

We  know  it  is  from  heaven, 
Binding  our  souls  for  aye  through  this 

Dear  child,  God-given. 

Dear  child,  through  fear  and  pain  thou  cam'st  ! 

But  rest  thee  now 

Upon  our  loving  hearts,  the  while  we  vow 
To  nourish  in  thee,  day  by  day, 
As  parents  may, 

By  grace  that  God  doth  give, 
That  life  divine  by  which  alone 

All  truly  live. 

42 


THE  MOTHER  IN   UNITY  WITH  HER  CHILD.     43 

O  Father  God !    Life  of  all  life  ! 

Love  in  all  love : 

In  whom  we  have  our  being,  live,  and  move — 
Let  this,  thy  life,  flow  undefiled 
Within  our  child ; 

That  we  may  be 
Bound  ever  closer  in  thy  love 

To  him  and  thee  ! 


II. 

THE  MOTHER  IN  UNITY   WITH  HER  CHILD. 

TELL  me,  my  little  one,  soft  and  pure, 
.  What  comes  from  thee  to  me, 
Stirring  me  dimly,  as  stirs  the  spring, 
With  the  joy  of  things  to  be  ? 

"  'Tis  the  faith  which  looks  from  my  trusting  eyes, 

Faith  in  thy  brooding  care ; 
'Tis  the  love  which  speaks  in  my  happy  smile, 

For  I  know  no  '  here '  nor  l  there.' 

"  Only  to  lie  in  thy  sheltering  arms, 

Where  darkness  cannot  fright; 
And  to  draw  my  life  from  thy  loving  breast, 

Where,  with  fingers  clinging  tight, 

"  I  tell,  as  only  a  baby  can, 

Of  the  hope  that  thou  shalt  be 
In  the  coming  years  to  my  opening  life 

What  thou  art  now  to  me  !  " 

Dear  baby,  again  look  into  my  eyes 

While  I  look  into  thine; 
Together  we'll  spell  life's  lesson  out ; 

Thy  faith  shall  still  teach  mine  ! 


44  MOTHER  PLAY. 

All  that  thy  clinging,  helpless  love 

Has  told  me  I  should  be — 
All  that  thy  fond  hope  prophesies — 

I'll  strive  to  be  for  thee. 

For  the  faith  of  thy  innocent  eyes  forecasts 

A  larger  faith  than  thine ; 
And  as  thou  drawest  life  from  me, 

I  draw  from  the  life  divine. 


III. 

THE  MOTHER'S  JOY  IN   BEHOLDING  HER  CHILD. 

WHO  can  tell  the  mother's  meaning, 
"When  above  the  cradle  leaning, 

Where  her  baby  lies, 
She  with  it  holds  sweet  communing  ? 
Broken  words,  or  wordless  crooning 

For  her  need  suffice ; 
But  within  them,  self-surrender, 
High  endeavour,  patience  tender, 

Live  as  prophecies. 


Oh,  tell  me,  child,  what  fairy  spell  in  thee 
Makes  all  about  thee  still  more  dear  to  me  ? 
Why  do  I  find  in  each  caressing  play 
Such  joy  as  angels  in  Heaven's  service  may  ? 

Ah,  'tis  thy  growing  life !  which,  like  a  flower 
Now  in  the  bud,  brings  with  each  newer  hour 
New  promise  of  a  beauty  yet  to  be— 
New  joy  with  each  fulfilling  prophecy ! 

All  peacefully  within  its  green  defence 
The  young  bud  lies:  so  wrapped  in  innocence 
Thou  liest,  dear ;  and  as  the  opening  bud 
Unknowing  gives  its  beauty  to  the  wood, 


THE  MOTHER  AT  PLAY  WITH  HER  CHILD.  45 

So  thy  sweet  eyes  make  brighter  all  my  day, 
And  shed  their  angel  light  upon  my  way ; 
For  as  the  sun  shines  in  each  flower  we  see, 
Thy  soul,  from  out  thine  eyes,  doth  shine  on  me ; 

While  like  a  victor  claiming  all  his  spoils 
Thy  baby  lips,  too,  hold  me  in  their  toils ! 
Yes,  eyes  and  lips,  all  that  thy  ringlets  crown, 
Speak  to  my  soul  and  mirror  forth  thine  own. 

Thy  dimpled  limbs,  which  now  refuse  thy  weight, 
Forecast  a  strength  that  shall  make  war  with  Fate ; 
And  all  which  now  I  fondle,  kiss,  and  hold, 
Is  type  of  human  greatness  manifold. 

Thy  very  weakness  seems  a  proof  to  me 
Of  human  nature's  higher  dignity ! 
For,  full-equipped  for  all  its  lifelong  round, 
Each  bird  and  beast  at  birth  is  ever  found. 

Ah,  that  is  why  my  own  best  life  is  stirred 
With  every  tender  service  or  fond  word 
Bestowed  on  thee.     To  man — distinction  proud ! — 
Alone  'tis  given  to  share  the  work  of  God  ! 


IV. 

THE  MOTHER  AT  PLAY  WITH  HER  CHILD. 

WHENEIER  your  gaze  with  watchful  love  is  bent 
Upon  your  child,  think  well  of  what  is  meant 

By  each  part  needed  for  so  fair  a  whole. 
You  learn  their  value,  knowing  their  intent, 

And  so  can  teach  them  all  to  serve  his  soul. 


I'm  so  proud  of  you.  Baby,  my  darling,  my  own ! 
Now  listen :  I'll  tell  you  how  you  may  be  known. 


46  MOTHER  PLAY. 

Your  dear  little  Head  is  too  heavy,  as  yet. 
But  that's  as  it  should  be  with  babies,  my  pet. 
Beneath  your  fair  Forehead  shine  two  happy  Eyes : 
I  pray  they  may  never  grow  too  worldly  wise ! 

A  "  War  of  the  Roses  "  is  waged  in  your  Cheek ! 
(My  fine  phrases,  sweet  one,  to  you  are  but  Greek !) 
Your  Ears,  like  pink  shells,  are  to  hear  when  I  sing; 
I  hope  they'll  ne'er  listen  to  any  wrong  thing. 

Your  queer  little  Nose  is  so  cunning  and  round. 
And  your  sweet  baby  Mouth  beneath  it  is  found ; 
And  when  in  your  sleep  your  rosy  Lips  part, 
Their  silence  is  singing  a  psalm  to  my  heart! 

And  here  is  your  Chin — pretty  dimple  and  all; 
It  holds  thousands  of  kisses,  although  it's  so  small. 
Your  white  Throat  and  Neck  are  softer  than  down ; 
And  your  fine  little  Back  shows  how  strong  you  have 
grown. 

Your  tiny,  plump  Hands,  with  their  small  Fingers  five, 

Are  telling  each  day  of  a  Mind  that's  alive. 

In  each  Arm  at  the  turn  a  dimple  is  set; 

When  they  have  grown  strong,  what  a  hugging  I'll  get ! 

Here's  a  fine,  sturdy  Chest,  and  beneath  it  I  feel 

Your  tiny  Heart  beat.     O!  through  woe  and  through 

weal, 

May  it  ever  beat  true,  and  learn  by-and-bye 
How  the  Life  that  we  live  is  fed  from  on  high. 

Here's  a  strong  little  Leg — a  leg  that  can  kick ! 
Before  wre  can  think  'twill  be  striding  a  stick. 
And  here,  at  the  last,  are  your  ten  little  Toes, 
Like  tiny  pink  buds  in  two  little  rows. 

Ah,  sweet  one!  ere  long  you'll  be  running  alone; 
Then  where  will  my  own  little  Baby  have  gone  ? 


THE  MOTHER  OBSERVING  HER  CHILD.        47 

I  shall  miss  the  dear  treasure  IVe  held  in  my  arms, 
With  its  dimples  and  coo  ings  and  sweet  baby  charms. 

Yes,  out  of  his  babyhood  Baby  must  grow ; 
A  Soul  is  born  with  him — it  stirs  even  now ; 
'Twill  unfold  like  a  flower  in  God's  sunshine  and  air: 
May  he  help  me  to  guard  it,  and  keep  it  still  fair ! 


V. 

THE  MOTHER  OBSERVING  THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF 
HER  CHILD. 

As  the  mother  hour  by  hour 
Feels  her  child's  awakening  power, 

Earnestly  she  prays 
That  the  God  of  love  will  fold  it 
In  his  sheltering  arms,  and  hold  it 

Ever  in  his  ways. 

But  she  knows  that  she  is  sent 
To  fulfil  his  love's  intent 

Towards  her  little  one  ; 
And  she  quickens  each  endeavour, 
For  Ms  love  and  care  are  ever 

Working  through  her  own. 


How  my  baby  is  growing  and  changing  apace ! 
Each  night  a  new  dimple,  each  day  a  new  grace. 
His  head  grows  so  shapely,  his  forehead  so  fine ! 
With  the  gladness  of  seeing,  his  happy  eyes  shine. 
His  ear  leans  attent  to  each  song  that  I  sing, 
And  he  eagerly  smells  every  flower  that  I  bring. 
When  I  hold  him  upright,  he  springs  on  my  knee, 
And  with  mere  joy  of  motion  he  laughs  out  in  glee. 
Already  he  grasps  for  a  ball  or  a  flower, 
And  holds  it  fast,  too,  with  all  his  small  power. 


48  MOTHER  PLAY. 

And  when  in  his  bath  he  splashes  and  springs, 
He  feels  the  life  in  him,  as  birds  feel  their  wings. 
The  life  ? — yes,  the  life — and  what  does  life  mean? 
It  means  the  soul  in  us,  the  God-force  unseen, 
Which  thrills  into  action  through  each  wakening  sense; 
And  through    action   brings  slowly — we  can  not  tell 

whence — 

A  conscious  self-seeing — we  learn  to  say  "  I." 
With  the  conscious  "  /  work  "  comes  life's  full  ecstasy ! 


VI. 

THE  MOTHER  TALKING  TO  HER  CHILD. 

THE  mother  who  is  true  to  her  sweet  trust, 

Feels  herself  richer  every  day, 
Not  only  as  a  mother  must — 

Owning  her  babe — but  in  a  way 
Untellable  to  those  who  know  it  not, 
And  which,  once  known,  can  never  be  forgot ! 

With  each  caress,  each  care,  each  merry  play, 
Her  own  soul  deepens  for  God's  love  ; 

And  as  the  sun  with  fervent  ray 
Draws  each  small  flower  to  look  above, 

She  draws  her  child's  soul  forth  to  meet  her  own, 

And  learns  that  love,  in  earth  and  heaven,  is  one. 


Come,  let  me  look  into  your  heart,  dear, 
Through  your  beautiful,  wondering  eyes; 

Now  smile  at  mamma,  and  kiss  her 
In  pretty  baby  wise. 

And  reach  out  your  hands  to  mine,  dear; 

They  shall  bind  our  hearts  in  one! 
Then  put  them  up  about  my  neck, 

As  you  have  often  done. 


THE   CHILD  AT   ITS  MOTHER'S  BREAST.       49 

Next  show  mamma  your  little  ears 

Like  sea-shells,  pink  and  white. 
Ah,  here  they  are,  for  me  to  kiss ! 

Your  curls  had  hid  them  quite. 

Now  stiffen  your  chubby,  round  legs,  dear, 

And  stand  up  straight  in  my  lap ; 
I  hold  you  now — ere  many  moons 

You'll  stand  alone,  mayhap. 

But  your  life  will  still  lean  on  mine,  dear, 

For  mother  and  child  must  be 
Drawn  together  through  all  their  lives, 

As  the  constant  moon  draws  the  sea. 

Drawn  together,  though  long  miles  should  part — 
Together,  even  as  now, 
While  I  fold  you  close  to  my  loving  heart, 
And  press  a  kiss  on  your  brow. 


VII. 

THE  CHILD  AT  ITS  MOTHER'S  BREAST. 

IT  is  not  food  alone, 

Thy  little  one 

Asks  for  from  out  thy  store — 

He  craves  far  more. 

With  instinct  deep  and  true, 

He  asks  from  you 

That  which  you  flrst  must  have, 

If  you  would  give — 

A  love  God-sent, 

That  grows  with  being  spent ! 


With  what  a  pretty  greed 

A  baby  seeks  its  food ! 
Rounding  its  sweet,  expectant  lips, 
Pressing  its  rosy  finger-tips 

With  inborn  aptitude. 


50  MOTHER  PLAY. 

A  lovely  parable 

For  mother's  reading  writ ! 
Your  l>aby's  soul  expectant  stands, 
Waiting  for  food  from  out  your  hands — 
See  that  you  nourish  it ! 


€IV°ETRSITT) 
OF  ./ 


FEOEBEL'S  INTEODUCTION  TO 
THE  COMMENTAEIES. 


FROEBEL'S  INTRODUCTION  TO 
THE  COMMENTARIES. 

i. 

You  are  gazing,  dear  mother,  at  your  child. 
You  revere  in  him  a  great  gift  from  God.  You 
believe  that  God  intrusts  him  to  you  for  thought- 
ful consideration,  for  careful  nurture.  Your 
soul  is  inflamed  by  an  intuition  of  the  truth  that 
in  this  dear  little  one  the  Father  of  all  being 
grants  you  a  revelation  of  himself.  You  know 
that  God  is  One,  and  since  your  child  is  in  his 
image  you  are  sure  that  he,  too,  is  a  unity  indi- 
visible and  indissoluble. 

But  while  you  are  thus  assured  of  the  unity 
of  your  child's  being,  there  streams  through  your 
soul  a  presentiment  that  this  unity  must  develop 
into  and  manifest  itself  through  manifoldness 
and  particularity.  Nor  is  this  all ;  but  with 
this  prophetic  anticipation  of  the  form  of  your 
child's  self-revelation  your  soul  thrills  with  the 
certainty  that  in  his  manifestation  of  unity  in 
the  manifold  you  shall  behold  as  in  a  mirror 
your  own  spiritual  image. 

Since  your  child  is  unity  and  yet  must  reveal 
himself  in  and  through  manifoldness,  it  follows 
as  incidental  to  his  self-revelation  that  there 

53 


54:  MOTHER  PLAY. 

must  arise  contradictions  and  dissonances.  In 
the  midst  of  such  contradictions,  however,  your 
own  soul  may  be  at  peace  ;  nay,  more,  you  may 
win  inexpressible  blessedness  from  the  convic- 
tion that  in  and  through  the  process  of  life  all 
contradictions  shall  be  solved,  all  antagonisms 
harmonised.  As  the  varied  appearances  of  the 
outer  world  are  reflected  in  harmonious  relation- 
ship in  the  clear  sea  of  your  eye,  so  the  varied 
phenomena  of  your  child's  self -revelation  become 
mutually  explanatory  when  life  is  apprehended 
as  one  great  whole.  The  idea  of  the  whole  is  the 
ocean  of  joy  which  mirrors  in  their  relationship 
and  unity  the  isolated  phenomena  of  a  progres- 
sive experience. 

Through  reading  the  soul  of  your  child,  dear 
mother,  you  will  learn  to  harmonise  the  contra- 
dictions of  his  self -revelation  with  the  unity  of 
his  essence.  The  movements  of  his  body,  the  exer- 
cise of  his  limbs,  the  activity  of  his  senses,  do 
they  not  all  relate  to  and  react  upon  the  one  cen- 
tral and  controlling  impulse  to  reveal  and  com- 
prehend life  as  a  unity  in  the  manifoldness  of 
particulars  ?  Do  they  not  declare  the  effort  of 
the  ego  to  feel  itself,  to  represent  itself,  and  to  ap- 
propriate, assimilate,  and  re-create  the  external 
world  ?  Does  not  even  the  healthy  tree  appro- 
priate matter  from  its  environment,  and,  true  to 
the  law  of  its  own  nature,  transform  it  into  foli- 
age, blossom,  and  fruit  ?  Ponder  this  analogy, 
and  gradually,  through  recognition  of  the  accord 
and  identity  of  all  life,  you  will  gain  insight  into 
the  truth  that  the  One  Great  Life  utters  itself  in 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE   COMMENTARIES.      55 

the  manifestations  of  your  child,  and  there  will 
dawn  upon  you  the  consciousness  of  your  child's 
true  essence — the  essence  of  spirit. 

Reflective  and  contemplative  mother,  strive  to 
define  to  yourself  what  it  is  which  rejoices  you 
in  your  child,  and  how  it  is  that  you  find  your 
own  life  mirrored  in  his.  Does  not  your  joy 
spring  from  the  fact  that  identity  of  selfhood 
manifests  itself  progressively  as  essence,  life, 
soul,  spirit,  "and  rises  through  instinct,  feel- 
ing, perception,  consciousness  to  clear  self-knowl- 
edge "  ?  And  the  source  of  your  crowning  bless- 
edness, is  it  not  that  this  self-identity  is  revealed 
in  the  manifoldness — yea,  let  me  dare  to  say  it,  in 
the  discords  and  contradictions — of  life  ?  Let  it 
be  your  aim  to  overcome  the  contradictions  be- 
tween your  child's  isolated  manifestations  by  a 
wise  and  tender  nurture ;  so  shall  you  help  him 
to  win  that  harmony  of  life  which  is  a  synthesis 
wrought  of  discords. 

Through  your  effort  to  strengthen  and  develop 
your  dear  one's  power,  through  your  nurture  of 
his  affections,  and  through  pondering  reverently 
the  varied  forms  in  which  his  inner  life  seeks  ex- 
pression, there  will  gradually  arise  in  your  mind 
the  conviction  that  the  child  not  only  feels  the 
unity  of  his  own  being,  but  has  also  a  yearning 
presentiment  of  the  truth  that  there  is  a  core  of 
unity  in  each  and  every  being.  Nor  is  his  pre- 
sentiment limited  to  the  sense  of  many  distinct 
and  separate  unities.  On  the  contrary,  just  in  pro- 
portion as  he  feels  in  himself  a  single  source  and 
fountain  of  life,  his  mind  is  lighted  by  a  fore- 


56  MOTHER  PLAY. 

gleam  of  the  truth  that  back  to  this  living  foun- 
tain is  to  be  traced  the  life  of  all  things.  In  other 
words,  his  mind  anticipates  in  feeling  the  insight 
which  you,  devout  mother,  consciously  possess — 
the  insight  that  his  soul  is  a  spark  of  the  divine 
Life  and  therefore  itself  divine,  and,  furthermore, 
that  all  existing  things  and  all  living  creatures 
manifest  in  various  forms  and  in  ascending  de- 
grees the  life  of  God. 

Illuminated  by  this  insight,  it  becomes  your 
highest  joy,  your  most  sacred  duty,  to  educate 
your  child  as  a  unity,  whole  and  complete  in 
himself  and  yet  related  essentially  to  Nature,  to 
Humanity,  and  to  God.  In  a  single  word,  recog- 
nising him  as  implicitly  the  child  of  God,  your 
devout  aim  will  be  so  to  educate  him  that  he  shall 
become  actually  the  child  of  God. 

Yes,  you  say,  that  is  my  aim.  But  in  what 
way  and  by  what  means  may  this  aim  be  real- 
ised ?  The  answer  to  this  question  is  written  in 
your  own  heart,  and  utters  itself  artlessly  and  un- 
consciously in  all  your  simple  motherly  ways 
and  words.  Through  them  you  speak  to  yourself 
and  tell  yourself  what  to  do. 

And  what  says  your  instinctive  procedure  ? 
It  points  you  for  the  ways  and  means  of  develop- 
ment to  the  child's  body  in  its  manifoldness  and 
unity.  It  points  you  to  his  limbs  and  senses ;  to 
the  hints  he  gives  you  that  he  has  begun  to  notice 
the  things  about  him;  to  his  wrestlings  and 
grapplings  with  the  outer  world,  as  shown  in 
the  effort  to  reach,  grasp,  and  hold.  It  points 
you  to  his  nascent  feeling  of  personality,  and  to 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  COMMENTARIES.      57 

his  awakening  sense  of  relationship  to  yourself 
and  to  all  the  persons  with  whom  he  is  brought 
into  contact.  Such  are  the  hints  thrown  out  by 
your  own  instinctive  words  and  deeds.  O  devout 
and  contemplative  mother,  revere  their  truth  and 
obey  their  suggestion!  Your  child  must  be 
educated  in  conformity  with  his  own  nature, 
in  relationship  to  his  total  environment,  and 
in  obedience  to  the  laws  which  govern  both. 
Through  his  body  he  is  united  with  the  world  of 
matter ;  through  his  limbs  he  is  connected  with 
an  environment  which  he  is  ever  creating  anew 
out  of  himself ;  through  touch  and  taste,  smell, 
hearing,  and  sight,  he  receives  incitement  from 
the  world  of  sense;  through  his  nascent  feel- 
ing of  self,  through  the  stirrings  of  phantasy, 
through  a  dreaming  and  half -waking  conscious- 
ness he  is  related  to — nay,  shown  to  be  in  essence 
— one  with  the  total  world  of  life  and  thought. 
To  comprehend  him  in  his  essence  and  mani- 
festation, in  his  self-activity  and  independence, 
and  yet  in  his  relationship  to  and  fundamen- 
tal identity  with  his  environment — finally,  to 
guard  him,  to  nurture  him,  and  to  develop  him  in 
harmony  with  the  demands  implied  by  his  nature 
and  his  relationships — such,  O  devout  mother,  is 
the  aim  of  education ! 

What,  then,  are  the  phenomena  through  which 
the  nature  of  your  child  reveals  itself  ?  What 
can  they  be  other  than  the  phenomena  present 
Irherever  an  invisible  unity  of  essence  manifests 
itself  in  form,  whether  it  be  in  the  realm  of  plant 
life,  of  animal  life,  or  of  human  life  ? 


58  MOTHER  PLAY. 

Compare  the  seed  and  the  egg  with  the 
full-grown  plant  and  the  fledged  bird.  Study 
the  analogous  development  of  feeling  and  of 
thought.  Out  of  the  indefinite  the  definite  is 
born.  The  indefinite  is  the  husk  of  a  rich  kernel 
of  life.  Watch  this  inner  life  as  it  struggles  for 
expression  in  the  swelling  buds  011  the  trees,  in 
the  growth  of  young  animals,  in  the  impulses 
of  infancy.  It  will  rejoice  you  to  behold  the  life 
of  your  child  overflowing  in  activity.  It  will  re- 
joice you  none  the  less  to  observe  his  suscepti- 
bility to  the  incitement  which  the  life  outside  of 
him  offers  to  his  own.  Like  young  plants  and 
young  animals,  he  responds  to  the  subtlest 
changes  of  light  and  heat.  Akin  to  his  suscep- 
tibility is  his  excitability.  The  strings  of  his  soul 
vibrate  responsive  to  the  lightest  touch.  Even 
so  the  tender  plantlet  and  the  unfledged  bird  are 
affected  by  almost  imperceptible  influences  and 
modified  by  the  least  change  in  their  environment. 

Too  often  the  susceptibility  and  excitability 
of  your  child  bring  grief  both  upon  him  and 
upon  you.  Nevertheless  it  is  through  them  that, 
like  the  germinating  seed  and  the  growing  bird, 
he  attracts  to  himself  the  influences  necessary  for 
his  development,  and  achieves  spontaneously  his 
own  distinctive  bodily  type  and  his  own  mental 
individuality. 

More  potent,  however,  than  all  external  stim- 
uli is  the  child's  passionate  impulse  towards  a 
development  of  his  own  inner  being  which  shall 
be  on  the  one  hand  spontaneous  and  on  the 
other  in  accord  with  the  universal  trend  of  life. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  COMMENTARIES.      59 

This  passion  declares  itself  in  his  incessant  ac- 
tivity and  during  the  periods  of  infancy  and 
early  childhood  manifests  itself  particularly  in 
bodily  movement  and  in  the  energy  of  sense. 
Hence,  notwithstanding  the  purity  of  its  motive 
it  often  begets  misunderstanding  and  gloom, 
wrong-doing,  strife,  and  pain. 

In  the  education  of  your  child,  therefore,  let 
your  point  of  departure  be  an  effort  to  strengthen 
and  develop  his  body,  his  limbs,  and  his  senses. 
From  this  development  of  body,  limb  and  sense 
rise  to  their  use.  Move  from  impressions  to  per- 
ceptions ;  from  perception  to  attentive  observa- 
tion and  contemplation ;  from  the  recognition  of 
particular  objects  to  their  relations  and  depend- 
encies ;  from  the  healthy  life  of  the  body  to  the 
healthy  life  of  the  spirit ;  from  thought  immanent 
in  experience  to  pure  thinking.  Ascend  thus 
from  sensation  to  thought ;  from  external  obser- 
vation to  internal  apprehension ;  from  physical 
combination  to  spiritual  synthesis;  from  a  for- 
mal to  a  vital  intellectual  grasp,  and  so  to  the 
culture  of  the  understanding ;  from  the  observa- 
tion of  phenomena  and  their  relations  to  the^ 
recognition  of  their  final  cause,  and  hence  to  the 
development  and  culture  of  life-grasping  reason. 
By  such  procedure  there  will  be  formed  in  the 
pupil  at  the  goal  of  his  education  the  clear  and 
transparent  soul-picture  of  each  particular  being, 
including  himself,  of  the  great  whole  to  which  all 
particular  beings  belong  as  members,  and  of  the 
truth  that  the  particular  being  reflects  as  in  a 
mirror  the  universal  life. 


60  MOTHER   PLAY. 

Lead  your  child  from  the  fact  to  the  picture, 
from  the  picture  to  the  symbol,,  from  the  symbol 
to  grasp  of  the  fact  as  a  spiritual  whole.  Thus 
will  be  developed  the  ideas  of  member  and  whole, 
of  the  individual  and  the  universal.  Educate 
your  child  in  this  manner,  and  at  the  goal  of  his 
education  he  will  recognise  himself  as  the  living 
member  of  a  living  whole,  and  will  know  that  his 
life  mirrors  the  life  of  his  family,  his  people,  hu- 
manity, the  being  and  life  of  God  who  works  in 
all  and  through  all.  Having  attained  to  a  clear 
vision  of  the  universal  life,  his  conscious  aim  will 
be  to  manifest  it  in  his  feeling  and  thought,  in 
his  relationships  and  his  deeds.  Through  the 
self-consecration  begotten  of  this  lofty  ideal  he 
will  learn  to  understand  nature,  human  experi- 
ence, and  the  prescient  yearnings  of  his  own 
soul.  His  individual  life  will  flow  with  the  cur- 
rents of  nature  and  of  humanity,  and  move  to- 
wards a  realisation  of  the  divine  ideal  immanent 
in  both.  Hence  his  life  will  be  a  life  of  peace 
and  joy,  and  the  yearnings  which  you  felt  as  you 
carried  your  unborn  babe  beneath  your  heart  will 
be  fulfilled. 


n. 

HAVE  you  ever  asked  yourself,  O  thoughtful 
mother,  what  means  the  fervent  glow  which  both 
warms  and  illuminates  your  soul  as  you  sit  gaz- 
ing upon  the  dear  child  lying  so  peacefully  in 
your  arms  ?  Have  you  ever  asked  yourself  what 
it  is  that  clothes  with  dignity  and  grace  each  sim- 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  COMMENTARIES.      61 

pie  service  you  render  ?  what  enables  you  to  per- 
form without  repulsion  duties  in  themselves  not 
only  commonplace  but  disagreeable  ?  what  gives 
you  the  calmness,  patience,  courage,  and  self- 
sacrifice  to  meet  those  phenomena  in  your  child's 
life  which  cause  you  anxiety  and  pain  ?  I  an- 
swer for  you:  It  is  because  each  trivial  deed, 
whether  it  concern  the  cleanliness  of  your  child, 
his  nourishment,  or  the  orderly  succession  of  his^ 
little  experiences,  is  grasped  by  you  in  its  relation 
to  and  recoil  upon  the  whole  of  life.  It  is  because, 
if  not  with  the  vision  of  the  intellect,  yet  with  the 
premonition  of  the  heart,  you  survey  your  child's 
life  in  its  unity,  and  realise  that  each  detail  of  his 
experience  will  continue  to  influence  his  history 
with  a  power  that  augments  as  life  proceeds.  In 
a  word,  it  is  because  your  soul  forecasts  his  future, 
and  in  the  seeds  of  the  present  anticipates  the  har- 
vest that  is  to  be. 

If  you  aspire  so  to  nurture  your  child  that  lie 
shall  hereafter  fulfil  the  duties  of  his  calling  as 
you  fulfil  the  duties  of  your  maternal  vocation ; 
if  you  wish  him  to  be  faithful  in  least  things, 
never  to  shirk  repulsive  duties,  and  to  conquer 
the  virtues  of  forethought,  courage,  and  temper- 
ance, you  must  endeavour  not  only  to  stir  his 
soul  with  a  premonition  of  the  wholeness  of  life, 
but  also,  so  far  as  possible,  to  lead  him  to  a  con- 
scious realisation  of  the  fact  that  experience  is  a 
connected  process,  and  that  he  must  hold  fast  to 
this  continuity  both  in  thought  and  in  deed.  In 
so  far  as  you  illuminate  his  mind  with  a  fore- 
gleam  of  this  truth  will  his  life  manifest  upon 


62  ;  MOTHER  PLAY. 

each  plane  of  development  those  noble  qiialities 
which  your  own  life  now  displays. 

A  dream  of  the  unity  of  life  is  characteristic 
of  childhood.  Because  this  dream  is  treated  as  an 
illusion  and  torn  from  us,  our  mature  years  are 
empty,  shallow,  and  ineffectual,  and  we  fail  to  re- 
enforce  the  minute  by  the  hour,  the  hour  by  the 
day.  Missing  the  insight  into  which  our  childish 
vision  might  have  been  transfigured,  or  gaining 
it  too  late,  we  lose  the  fairest  years  of  life  and 
learn  no  lesson  from  those  experiences  which  were 
richest  in  their  possibilities. 

What  is  the  fairest  phenomenon  of  human 
life  ?  What  phenomenon  is  freighted  with  deep- 
est and  tenderest  suggestion  ?  To  what  phenome- 
non does  art  most  tirelessly  recur  ?  Is  it  not  the 
phenomenon  of  infancy,  or,  rather,  is  it  not  in- 
fancy and  motherhood  in  inmost  unity  and  reci- 
procity ?  Art,  however,  presents  this  phenomenon 
under  only  one  of  its  aspects,  though  it  conceives 
this  aspect  in  its  loftiest  and  most  ideal  form. 
But  where  are  the  countless  other  aspects  of 
mother-love  fostering  and  developing  the  infant 
life  ?  They  are  lost  in  a  sea  of  forgetfulness. 
Yet,  if  we  but  knew  it,  they  are  the  waves  upon 
which  the  storm-tossed  ship  of  life  might  ride 
safely  into  harbour. 

And  now,  dear  mother,  let  me  try  to  state 
briefly  what  I  offer  you  in  this  little  book  of 
songs  and  plays.  It  is  an  attempt  to  aid  you  to 
recognise  in  the  period  of  earliest  childhood  the 
germ  of  all  later  life.  It  aims  to  interpret  to  you 
your  own  instinctive  words  and  deeds,  and  to  help 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  COMMENTARIES.      63 

you  to  a  clear  consciousness  both  of  what  you  are 
trying  to  do  for  your  child,  and  of  the  inner  im- 
pulse whence  your  effort  proceeds.  Accept  the 
book  in  a  kindly  and  thoughtful  spirit ;  study  the 
plays ;  study  especially  the  pictures.  Be  not  too 
critical  of  the  form  of  the  one  or  of  the  artistic 
merit  of  the  other.  Remember  that  the  aim  and 
spirit  of  the  book  are  novel,  and  that  I  am  break- 
ing a  path  through  unexplored  regions  of  experi- 
ence. My  success  must  necessarily  be  partial  and 
imperfect.  Nevertheless,  I  hope  to  make  clear  to 
you  truths  which  you  have  felt  but  have  not  ap- 
prehended, which  you  have  therefore  often  mis- 
interpreted in  your  actions,  and  which  at  best  you 
have  applied  in  a  detached  and  hence  ineffectual 
form.  If  my  book  lifts  your  hidden  impulses  into 
the  light  of  consciousness,  and  teaches  you  so  to 
relate  your  actions  as  to  make  them  truly  educa- 
tive, you  will  not  be  critical  of  its  literary  short- 
comings. 

But  this  book  has  a  mission  to  fulfil  for  your 
child  as  well  as  for  you.  As  a  mother's  book,  it 
illuminates  the  present  and  forecasts  the  future. 
As  a  child's  book,  it  preserves  a  too  easily  forgot- 
ten past  and  endows  the  early  years  of  life  with 
continuity.  This  mission  can  be  fulfilled  only  as 
song,  story,  and  picture  are  vivified  by  your 
thought  and  warmed  by  your  heart.  When, 
therefore,  your  child  has  entered  upon  that  stage 
of  development  wherein  thought  mounts  from 
object  to  picture,  and  in  the  picture  discerns  the 
symbol,  use  this  book  so  that  it  may  preserve  for 
him  the  first  tender  buds  of  thought  and  experi- 


64:  MOTHER  PLAY. 

ence,  and  help  him  to  conceive  his  life  not  in  the 
isolation  of  its  particular  acts  but  in  the  unity  of 
its  process.  By  so  doing  you  will  bridge  the  gulf 
between  the  unconscious  and  conscious  periods  of 
life.  You  will  make  the  plays  of  infancy  a  round 
in  that  ladder  of  experience  over  which  the  soul 
climbs  towards  self-realisation  and  self-knowl- 
edge. You  will  also  be  preparing  your  child  for 
the  retrospective  glance  which  shall  assign  to 
each  round  of  this  ascending  ladder  its  own  pe- 
culiar place. 

Recall  the  feelings  which  were  wakened  in 
you  by  the  sight  of  your  firstborn  child.  Re- 
mind yourself  of  the  thrill  with  which,  as  he  lay 
cradled  in  your  arms,  you  noted  his  feeble  and 
aimless  movements.  Are  not  these  feelings,  with 
their  tender  and  yet  peremptory  incitement  to 
nurture,  worthy  of  being  themselves  nurtured  ? 
Is  not  their  nurture  essential  to  the  well-being  of 
your  child  and  the  peace  of  your  own  soul  ? 
Should  we  not  spurn  the  suggestion  that  they  can 
be  ephemeral  ?  Were  they  not  well-springs  of 
ineffable  joy  ?  Did  they  not  stir  your  soul  with 
a  blessedness  too  deep  for  utterance  ?  Did  they 
not  transfigure  you  into  a  being  of  nobler  and 
fairer  mould  ?  Did  not  your  outer  semblance 
take  on  a  new,  strange  beauty  born  of  the  celes- 
tial purity  of  your  transfigured  soul  ? 

Why  was  your  soul  thus  exalted,  your  coun- 
tenance thus  transfigured,  as  you  gazed  upon  your 
infant  child  ?  You  need  no  words  of  mine  to  an- 
swer this  question.  Your  whole  nature  was  up- 
lifted by  your  realisation  of  the  truth  that  an  in- 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  COMMENTARIES.      65 

expressible  blessedness  is  conferred  whenever  a 
new  soul  comes  into  being. 

We  scout  the  suggestion  that  the  feelings 
wakened  in  you  by  the  sight  of  your  newborn 
infant  can  ever  die.  Yet  must  not  we — must  not 
you — admit  that  in  the  effort  to  give  him  phys- 
ical care  and  to  meet  his  practical  needs,  these 
feelings  too  often  grow  cold,  too  often  pass  away  ? 
Should  you  reconcile  yourself  to  their  loss  ?  Are 
they  granted  to  you  only  as  the  sweet  reward  of , 
those  unspeakable  throes  through  which  God's 
heavenly  gift  receives  earthly  being  ?  or  is  the 
consecration  to  which  your  soul  is  stirred  by  a 
celestial  breeze  wafted  from  your  helpless  babe, 
destined  to  rise  into  ever  clearer  consciousness 
and  to  bless  you  and  him  so  long  as  he  shall  live, 
or  at  the  very  least  so  long  as  he  needs  your  fos- 
tering care,  and  until  he  stands  before  you  a  free, 
self-determining,  and  responsible  man  ?  My  own 
faith  you  will  have  already  divined.  May  I  illus- 
trate by  a  picture  drawn  from  my  own  experi- 
ence ? 

In  my  early  boyhood,  when  a  feeling  for  na- 
ture was  just  beginning  to  stir  within  me,  I  found 
one  day,  hidden  beneath  a  hedge  of  white  roses,  a 
tiny  five-petaled  flower  of  rosy  colour  and  having 
in  its  centre  five  golden  points.  Hundreds  of  f  ai  rer 
flowers  blossomed  in  my  father's  garden  and  were 
cultivated  by  him  with  anxious  care.  This  sim- 
ple child  of  Nature  bloomed  unheeded  in  a  hid- 
den spot.  Yet  it  was  precisely  this  insignificant 
floweret  which  more  than  any  other  attracted 
and  held  my  imagination,  and  when  I  peered  into 


66  MOTHER  PLAY. 

its  heart  and  saw  the  golden  stars  I  seemed  to 
myself  to  have  discovered  a  bottomless  depth. 
For  months  and  years,  whenever  this  flower  was 
in  blossom,  I  was  wont  to  stand  by  the  hour  gaz- 
ing into  its  mysterious  heart.  It  seemed  to  be 
forever  trying  to  say  to  me  something  which  I 
could  not  understand.  I  never  grew  tired  of 
looking.  I  was  always  sure  that  some  day  I 
should  read  its  secret. 

With  just  such  a  love,  such  a  longing,  such  a 
presentiment,  do  you,  dear  mother,  gaze  at  the 
child  opening  like  a  bud  before  your  vision.  You 
look  into  the  clear  sea  of  his  eye ;  in  this  sea  you 
behold  the  whole  heaven  reflected.  My  gaze  into 
my  flower  was  like  your  gaze  at  your  child. 
Hence,  without  the  mediation  of  words  I  under- 
stand you  and  you  understand  me.  But  the  boy 
wandered  from  his  home — put  far  behind  him 
the  lovely  garden,  and  forgot  the  flower.  In 
youth  he  rediscovered  it,  and  this  time  in  the 
early  spring,  and  in  the  close  neighbourhood  of  a 
hazelnut  bush.  The  latter  plant  had  also  meant 
much  to  him  in  an  epoch-making  moment  of 
life.*  Picture  to  yourself  the  joy  with  which  the 

*  I  was  often  a  mute  witness  of  the  strict  way  in  which  my 
father  performed  his  pastoral  duties,  and  of  the  frequent  scenes 
between  him  and  the  many  people  who  came  to  the  parsonage 
to  seek  advice  and  consolation.  I  was  thus  again  constantly 
attracted  from  the  outer  to  the  inner  aspects  of  life.  Life, 
with  its  inmost  motives  laid  bare,  passed  before  my  eyes,  with 
my  father's  comments  pronounced  upon  it;  and  thing  and 
word,  act  and  symbol,  were  thus  perceived  by  me  in  their  most 
vivid  relationship.  I  saw  the  disjointed,  heavy-laden,  torn,  in- 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  COMMENTARIES.      67 

youth,  now  on  terms  of  close  intimacy  with  Na- 
ture, found  in  this  close  conjunction  the  two 
plants  which  had  stirred  his  childish  soul  with 
deepest  presentiments.  The  old  longing  awoke  in 
him.  It  was  in  a  measure  satisfied,  for  the  flow- 
ers declared  to  him  in  their  own  speech  the  secret 
of  existence  and  the  mysterious  law  of  develop- 
ment. But  once  again  the  secret  was  forgotten — 
whirled  by  the  vortex  of  life  into  the  unconscious 
depths  of  the  soul. 


harmonious  life  of  man  as  it  appeared  in  this  community  of  five 
thousand  souls,  before  the  watchful  eyes  of  its  earnest,  severe 
pastor.  Matrimonial  and  sexual  irregularities  especially  were 
often  the  objects  of  my  father's  gravest  condemnation  and  re- 
buke. The  way  in  which  he  spoke  about  these  matters  showed 
me  that  they  formed  one  of  the  most  oppressive  and  difficult 
parts  of  human  conduct;  and,  in  my  youth  and  innocence,  I 
felt  a  deep  pain  and  sorrow  that  man  alone,  among  all  crea- 
tures, should  be  doomed  to  these  separations  of  sex,  whereby  the 
right  path  was  made  so  difficult  for  him  to  find.  I  felt  it  a 
real  necessity  for  the  satisfaction  of  my  heart  and  mind  to 
reconcile  this  difficulty,  and  yet  could  find  no  way  to  do  so. 
How  could  I,  at  that  age  and  in  my  position  f  But  my  eldest 
brother — who,  like  all  my  elder  brothers,  lived  away  from  home — 
came  to  stay  with  us  for  a  time ;  and  one  day,  when  I  expressed 
my  delight  at  seeing  the  purple  threads  of  the  hazel-buds,  he 
made  me  aware  of  a  sexual  difference  in  plants.  Now  was  my 
spirit  at  rest.  I  recognised  that  what  had  so  weighed  upon  me 
was  an  institution  spread  over  all  Nature,  to  which  even  the 
silent,  beautiful  race  of  flowers  was  submitted.  From  that  time^ 
humanity  and  Nature,  the  life  of  the  soul  and  the  life  of  the 
flower,  were  closely  knit  together  in  my  mind ;  and  I  can  still 
see  my  hazel-buds,  like  angels,  opening  for  me  the  great  God's 
temple  of  Nature. — Autobiography  of  FriedricJi  Froebel,  trans- 
lated by  Emilie  Michaelis  and  H.  Keatley  Moore,  pages  11,  12. 


68  MOTHER  PLAY. 

In  mature  manhood,  when  I  had  found  my 
life-calling  and  consecrated  my  strength  to  it,  I 
once  more  came  across  my  flower.  The  presenti- 
ment which  the  frail  and  perishing  blossom  had 
awakened  in  my  soul  had  ripened  into  insight, 
and  I  had  recognised  its  true  symbol  in  the  deep- 
rooted,  wide-branching,  long-living  tree.  I  had 
rediscovered  that  mystic  tree  of  knowledge  of 
good  and  evil  that  grew  in  paradise,  and  learned 
from  it  to  discriminate  between  right  and  wrong, 
between  illusion  and  reality.  Now,  at  last,  after 
fifty  years,  I  know  why  in  my  musing  boyhood  I 
loved  to  peer  into  the  heart  of  the  flower.  It  was 
because  my  soul  was  stirred  by  a  presentiment 
of  the  depth  and  meaning  of  life.  What  I  beheld 
in  symbol  you,  mother,  behold  in  reality  in  your 
dear  baby.  Must  fifty  years  pass  over  your  head, 
as  over  mine,  before  you  understand  what  his  life 
is  telling  you  about  itself  and  about  all  life  ? 
Must  you,  too,  wait  until  life  is  nearly  over  be- 
fore you  know  what  it  means  ?  Of  what  avail 
will  such  tardy  knowledge  be  to  you  or  to  your 
child  ? 

What  shall  we  learn  from  our  yearning 
look  into  the  heart  of  the  flower  and  the  eye  of 
the  child  ?  This  truth :  Whatever  develops,  be 
it  into  flower  or  tree  or  man,  is  from  the  begin- 
ning implicitly  that  which  it  has  the  power  to 
become.  The  possibility  of  perfect  manhood  is 
what  you  read  in  your  child's  eye,  just  as  the 
perfect  flower  is  prophesied  in  the  bud  or  the 
giant  oak  in  the  tiny  acorn.  A  presentiment 
that  the  ideal  or  generic  human  being  slumbers, 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  COMMENTARIES.      69 

dreams,  stirs  in  your  unconscious  infant — this 
it  is,  O  mother,  which  transfigures  you  as  you 
gaze  upon  him.  Strive  to  define  to  yourself 
what  is  that  generic  ideal  which  is  wrapped  up 
in  your  child.  Surely,  as  your  child — or,  in 
other  words,  as  child  of  man — he  is  destined  to 
live  in  the  past  and  future  as  well  as  in  the  pres- 
ent. His  earthly  being  implies  a  past  heaven; 
his  birth  makes  a  present  heaven ;  in  his  soul  he 
holds  a  future  heaven.  This  threefold  heaven, 
which  you  also  bear  within  you,  shines  out  on 
you  through  your  child's  eyes. 

The  beast  lives  only  in  the  present.  Of  past 
and  future  he  knows  naught.  But  to  man  be- 
long not  only  the  present,  but  also  the  future 
and  the  past.  His  thought  pierces  the  heaven  of 
the  future  and  hope  is  born.  He  learns  that  all 
human  life  is  one  life ;  that  all  human  joys  and 
sorrows  are  his  joys  and  sorrows,  and  through 
participation  enters  the  present  heaven — the 
heaven  of  love.  He  turns  his  mind  towards  the 
past,  and  out  of  retrospection  wrests  a  vigorous 
faith.  What  soul  could  fail  to  conquer  an  in- 
vincible trust,  in  the  pure,  the  good,  the  holy, 
the  ideally  human,  the  truly  divine,  if  it  would 
look  with  single  eye  into  its  own  past,  into 
the  past  of  history  ?  Could  there  be  a  man  in 
whose  soul  such  a  contemplation  of  the  past 
would  fail  to  blossom  into  devout  insight,  into 
self  -  conscious  and  self  -  comprehending  faith  ? 
Must  not  such  a  retrospect  unveil  the  truth  ? 
Must  not  the  beauty  of  the  unveiled  truth  al- 
lure him  to  divine  doing,  divine  living  ?  All 


70  MOTHER  PLAY. 

that  is  high  and  holy  in  human  life  meets  in 
that  faith  which  is  born  of  the  unveiling  of  a 
heaven  that  has  always  been ;  in  that  hope  born 
of  a  vision  of  the  heaven  that  shall  be ;  in  that 
love  which  creates  a  heaven  in  the  eternal  now. 
These  three  heavens  shine  out  upon  you  through 
your  child's  eye.  The  presentiment  that  he  car- 
ries these  three  heavens  within  him  transfigures 
your  countenance  as  you  gaze  upon  him.  Cher- 
ish this  premonition,  for  thereby  you  will  help 
him  to  make  his  life  a  musical  chord  wherein 
are  blended  the  three  notes  of  faith,  hope,  and 
love.  These  celestial  virtues  will  link  his  life 
with  the  divine  life,  through  which  all  life  is  one 
• — with  the  God  who  is  the  supernal  fountain  of 
Life,  Light,  and  Love. 


MOTTOES  AND  COMMENTARIES 


^>^  Strompfdbefn. 

3gf|a|   ,,2Benn  Jtinbcfjen  jur  £uft  SIrm' 

unb  Seine  fcetoegt, 
3n  ber  SWutter  bie  ©piefluft  mit 

bem  jtinbe  ftc^  regt, 
23om  ©c^opfer  ift  t^r  tied  jur 
SBeifung  gegeben  : 

iify  im  ^tnbe 
,  gelinte 

i  ju  pflegen   fein 
innered  Seten ; 

unb  ©piete  unb 


\ 


72 


I. 

PLAY  WITH  THE  LIMBS. 

WATCH  a  mother's  answering  play, 

When  her  happy  baby  kicks ! 
She  will  brace  her  hands  to  please  him, 
Or  in  loving  sort  she'll  tease  him 

With  her  playful  tricks. 

This  is  not  mere  fond  caprice — 

God  inspires  the  pretty  strife  ; 
She  is  leading  a  beginner 
Through  the  outer  to  the  inner 

Of  his  groping  life. 

Is  it  not  true,  O  thoughtful  mother,  that  in  all 
you  do  for  and  with  your  child  you  are  seeking 
one  aim,  returning  forever  to  one  central  point 
of  endeavour  ?  This  aim  is  the  nurture  of  life. 
The  impulse  to  foster  life  is  the  very  core  of  your 
motherly  being.  It  gives  unity  to  your  feeling, 
thought,  and  action.  It  explains  why  your  feel- 
ing, thought,  and  activity  rise  in  unison  to  meet 
each  manifestation  of  life  and  activity  in  your 
child. 

Nothing  gives  you  greater  joy  than  this  ebulli- 
ent life,  provided  that  its  manifestations  are  strong, 
calm,  and  in  accord  with  the  laws  of  nature. 
Unless  your  motherly  instinct  has  been  warped 
by  habit,  prejudice,  or  misunderstanding  of  itself, 
it  responds  at  once  to  the  movements  of  your 
7  73 


74  MOTHER  PLAY. 

child.  You  will  foster  his  impulsive  movements, 
exercise  his  strength,  cultivate  his  activity,  and 
prepare  him  through  doing  for  seeing,  through 
the  exertion  of  his  power  for  its  comprehension. 
In  a  word,  you  will  seek  through  self -activity  to 
lead  him  to  self-knowledge. 

Your  child  lies  on  a  clean  cushion  before  you. 
He  has  been  invigorated  by  his  morning  bath. 
He  is  now  enjoying  a  strengthening  air  bath. 
In  the  bliss  of  perfect  health  he  is  striking  out 
with  his  little  arms  and  kicking  about  with  his 
chubby  feet.  Your  instinct  tells  you  that  he  is 
seeking  an  object  against  which  he  may  measure 
his  strength,  and  by  measuring  increase  and  en- 
joy it.  To  the  need  indicated  by  his  lively  move- 
ments your  motherly  love  promptly  responds,  and 
you  hold  your  hands  so  that  the  little  feet  may 
alternately  strike  against  them. 

But  you  are  not  satisfied  with  this  merely 
physical  nurture.  You  long  to  nourish  your 
baby's  feelings,  to  stir  the  pulses  of  his  heart. 
He  shall  not  only  learn  through  your  strength  to 
know  his  own.  In  some  way,  in  some  slight  de- 
gree, you  must  make  him  feel  the  love  which  in- 
spires all  you  do.  Hence,  as  the  little  play  goes 
on,  you  begin  to  sing ;  and  love,  the  melody  of 
the  heart,  is  revealed  in  the  melody  of  the  voice. 

The  theme  of  your  song  is  suggested  by  the 
lamp  which  burns  beside  you  through  the  long 
nights  during  which  your  sleepless  love  watches 
over  your  baby.  It  was  by  an  evenly  exercised 
strength  that  oil  was  pressed  from  hemp  and 
poppy  seed.  As  your  child  matures  you  may  find 


PLAY  WITH  THE  WKlVI  75 


" 


in  this  symbol  a  means  of 
and  later  to  understand,  that  his  harmoniously 
developing  activity  is  the  oil  which  feeds  the 
sacred  fire  of  your  love. 

The  picture  which  accompanies  this  game 
shows  you  an  oil  mill.  Near  it  grow  a  poppy 
plant  and  a  hemp  plant.  Use  this  picture  to 
explain  to  your  child,  as  he  grows  older,  how  oil 
is  made.  Avail  yourself  also  of  any  opportunity 
which  may  offer  to  show  him  the  oil  mill  itself. 

The  upper  part  of  our  picture  shows  a  moth- 
er who  has  found  occasion  to  visit  an  oil  mill 
with  her  little  family.  Each  child  is  busy  repro- 
ducing in  his  own  fashion  his  new  experience. 
Wishing  to  stir  the  imaginations  of  her  children 
with  a  presentiment  of  the  living,  loving,  active 
power  which  works  throughout  Nature,  the 
mother  has  led  them  into  the  mountain  valley 
close  by  the  mill.  At  the  head  of  the  stream 
which  flows  through  this  valley  the  older  boy 
has  found  a  place  to  set  up  his  toy  mill.  The 
water  keeps  it  going  merrily.  The  younger 
brother  looks  on  in  mute  amazement.  He  shades 
his  eyes  from  the  blinding  sun  that  it  may  not 
prevent  him  from  gazing  at  his  brother's  work. 
The  sister  seeks  ends  of  her  own,  and  seeks  them 
in  the  shortest  and  simplest  way.  Wading  with 
sturdy  bare  feet  in  the  clear  brook,  she  kneads 
the  fine  sand  into  a  plastic  dough. 

Surrounded  by  her  busy  children,  the  mother 
sits  musing.  She  is  asking  herself  why  it  is  that, 
with  the  same  nurture  and  under  the  same  influ- 
ences, each  child  shows  a  different  individuality. 


76  MOTHER  PLAY. 

In  the  mirror  of  their  spontaneous  play  she  be- 
holds the  later  life  of  her  three  children.  Each 
child  feels  the  fascination  of  the  water  and  its 
mysterious  force  ;  yet  each  is  differently  affected 
by  the  one  fascination. 

The  elder  boy  (so  thinks  his  mother)  will  one 
day  bend  the  force  of  life  by  means  of  his  intelli- 
gence to  purposes  of  his  own  choosing.  The  little 
girl  will  not  know  how  to  use  external  means 
to  gain  her  ends.  She  will  hold  her  aims  in  her 
heart  and  pursue  them  through  her  own  deed  and 
sacrifice.  The  younger  brother  will  follow  still 
another  path.  He  is  one  who  will  strive  to  un- 
derstand the  nature  of  force  and  the  method  of 
its  activity. 

Each  one  of  the  playing  children  is  living  a 
present  life  which  is  rich  and  full.  The  mother 
is  enjoying  the  wealth  and  fulness  of  the  future 
and  the  past  as  well  as  the  wealth  and  fulness  of 
the  present.  She  has  noticed  the  woman  who, 
basket  on  arm,  is  climbing  the  hill.  "  Where  are 
you  going,  my  good  woman  ?  "  she  asks,  and  the 
latter  answers :  "  I  am  going  to  the  oil  mill,  to  see 
if  the  rich  miller  will  not  give  me  oil  in  return 
for  what  I  am  carrying  to  him  in  my  basket. 
My  little  baby  is  ill,  and  I  must  watch  all  night 
beside  him.  I  want  bread,  too,  for  I  cannot  earn 
anything  now,  and  yet  my  poor  child  must  eat." 
These  words  bring  back  to  our  mother's  mind 
the  little  game  she  played  with  her  babies  in  days 
gone  by,  and  as  she  looks  at  her  children  and 
thinks  about  them,  she  asks,  "  Will  their  future 
lives  thankfully  reward  their  mother's  love  ?  " 


II. 

FALLING!    FALLING! 

A   GAME   TO   STRENGTHEN   THE   WHOLE   BODY. 

ALL  a  mother  does  or  says 

Is  inspired  by  thoughtful  love. 
"  Falling  !  falling  ! "  she  is  playing, 
But  her  hand  the  fall  is  staying, 

So  her  love  to  prove. 

To  her  child  her  life  is  given, 

Thought,  and  word,  and  deed,  and  prayer ; 

(And  her  hold,  an  instant  broken, 
To  his  mind  is  but  a  token 
Of  her  constant  care. 
. 

Soon  her  arms  must  loose  their  hold, 

Not,  as  now,  in  pretty  play — • 
Keeping  still  their  circle  round  him,  . 
That  no  jar  or  fright  may  wound  him — 

But  for  all  the  day. 

And  for  this,  her  thought  and  love 

Must  his  little  life  prepare  : 
Teaching  first  how  she  is  needed, 
That  through  her  fond  cautions  heeded 

He  may  learn  self-care. 

It  often  happens  that  what  lies  close  at  hand 
is  overlooked.  Through  such  an  oversight  this 
little  game  is  without  a  picture  to  illustrate  and 
explain .  it.  The  song  and  niotto,  however,  ex- 
plain themselves,  and  the  game  is  a  perfectly 
simple  one. 

77 


78  MOTHER  PLAY. 

You  are  standing,  dear  mother,  beside  a  table 
upon  which  lies  a  soft  cushion,  or  perhaps  beside 
your  baby's  crib.  Your  darling  is  half-sitting, 
half-lying  on  his  plump  back  in  a  basket  which 
you  have  made  out  of  your  hands.  You  hold  him 
thus  a  little  above  the  cushion,  then,  gently  with- 
drawing your  hands,  let  him  fall  upon  it  with 
just  sufficient  force  to  give  him  a  slight  shock. 

This  game  may  be  played  in  another  way. 
The  child  lies  before  you  on  a  cushion.  You  take 
hold  of  his  hands  and  raise  him  into  a  sitting 
position,  then,  letting  go  his  hands,  you  allow 
him  to  slip  back  again  on  the  cushion.  In  this 
case,  too;  he  experiences  a  slight  shock. 

Through  this  falling  or  slipping  play,  in  which 
he  is  watched  over  by  your  love  and  protected  by 
your  care,  your  baby  increases  both  his  strength 
and  his  consciousness  of  strength.  As  he  grows 
older  you  will  find  many  opportunities  to  show 
him  that  without  such  watchful  care  slips  and 
falls  may  easily  become  serious,  and  even  dan- 
gerous. 

Yonder  is  a  child  gliding  in  his  sledge  over 
the  slippery  snow.  His  eye  is  not  sure,  his  hand 
is  not  strong ;  he  falls.  Fortunately  he  gets  only 
a  slight  bruise  on  his  leg.  What  says  his  pain  ? 
"  Train  your  eye,  exercise  your  strength,  so  that 
in  future  you  may  avoid  a  fall."  Yonder,  again, 
is  a  boy  skating.  Heedlessly  his  eye  wanders 
from  one  thing  to  another;  heedlessly  he  lets 
his  feet  and  legs  go  where  they  will.  He  falls, 
but  happily  only  grazes  his  hand.  Collect  your 
mind,  fix  your  eye,  rule  your  feet  and  legs,  that 


FALLING!    FALLING!  79 

you  may  not  fall  again — so  says  his  aching  hand. 
But  see !  here  a  little  girl  has  dropped  a  plate, 
yonder  a  boy  has  let  fall  a  goblet ;  yet  neither 
girl  nor  boy  had  once  looked  away  from  the 
object  in  their  hands — both  had  been  watchful  and 
careful.  Why,  then,  had  they  dropped  what  they 
were  carrying  ?  Their  grasp  had  not  been 
strong  ;  they  had  not  really  used  the  strength  of 
their  hands  and  fingers.  Many  a  fall  and  many  ] 
a  loss  come  from  anxious  care  mated  with  weak- 
ness. Draw  these  pictures  from  life  for  your 
child  and  set  them  before  him  as  need  and  occa- 
sion call  for  them.  So  doing,  both  you  and  he 
will  learn  the  lesson  of  the  falling  game,  and 
neither  of  you  will  miss  the  illustration  which 
should  have  accompanied  it. 


,,<5ott  Dem  $tnb  ba3  £fwn 

son  etroaS  anberm  fallen,        °Z~ 
SWufjt  Du  e«  etn 

fcltfl  augfii^ren  tajfen. 

Darin  ifl  e«  ttef  gegriinbet, 

Daf  Detn  ^tnb 

©ern,  gefdjtmnb 

urn  (t<^  finbet. 


III. 

THE  WEATHER  VANE. 

A   GAME   FOR   EXERCISING   THE   JOINTS   OF   THE   HAND   AND 
ELBOW. 

WATCH  as  your  baby  grows,  and  you  will  see 
That  his  whole  life,  wherever  he  may  be, 
Is  a  perpetual  mimicry. 

An  engine  now,  he  puffs  with  all  his  might ; 
Anon,  with  brows  perplexed,  he  feigns  to  write — 
Or  strides  his  chair,  a  mounted  knight. 

Brimming  with  life,  but  knowing  not  as  yet 
Even  the  letters  of  its  alphabet, 
,_lle  imitates  eacja  pattern  s^t» 

And  watching  him,  perchance  you  question  why 
Each  new  activity  that  meets  his  eye 
Excites  him  his  own  skill  to  try. 

His  is  an  instinct  ignorantly  wise  ! 
\Only  in  doing  can  he  realise 
\  The  thing  that's  done  beneath  his  eyes. 

A  stranger  'midst  the  surging  life  of  men, 
He  to  his  own  life-stature  shall  attain 
By  taking — to  give  back  again. 

The  forearm  and  hand  of  the  child  are  held 
as  nearly  upright  as  possible ;  the  fingers  are 
spread  out  to  form  the  tail  of  the  weather-cock ; 
the  flat  hand  makes  its  body,  the  little  thumb 
its  throat  and  head.  The  hand  is  moved  to  and 

81 


82  MOTHER  PLAY. 

fro  in  imitation  of  the  movement  of  the  weather- 
cock. 

"  This  play,"  you  say,  "  is  too  simple."  Yet  it 
delights  your  child,  and  it  is  long  before  it  ceases 
to  give  him  fresh  pleasure  every  time  it  is 
played. 

He  is  not  yet  able  to  speak,  yet  see  not  only 
with  what  pleasure  but  with  what  seriousness  he 
moves  his  little  hand  whenever  you  bid  him  show 
how  the  weather-cock  turns !  Why  is  he  so  pleased 
and  yet  so  serious  ?  Have  you  never  moved  an 
object  before  him  in  such  a  way  that  the  motive 
power  is  not  apparent  ?  Have  you  never  noticed 
that  to  search  for  this  motive  power  gives  him 
greater  pleasure  than  to  watch  the  moving  object  ? 
His  pleasure  in  moving  his  hand  comes  from  the 
same  source.  He  feels  and  controls  the  origin  of 
a  movement,  the  cause  of  an  effect ;  this  it  is 
which  fills  his  heart  with  such  serious  joy.  He 
is  experiencing  the  fact  that  a  moving  object  has 
its  ground  in  a  moving  force ;  soon  he  will  con- 
clude that  living  objects  have  their  ground  in  a 
living  force. 

On  a  windy,  almost  stormy  day  your  dear 
children  go  with  you  to  the  drying  place  in  front 
of  your  house.  Where  do  children  not  love  to 
follow  a  mother  who  is  active  and  busy  ? 

Hark !  how  the  vane  creaks  on  the  tower !  The 
wind  keeps  it  going  merrily  to  and  fro.  Here 
come  a  hen  and  rooster ;  they  cannot  turn  about 
so  quickly  as  the  weather-cock,  but  the  wind 
blows  the  feathers  in  their  tails  from  side  to  side. 
How  the  clothes  flap  and  rustle  on  the  line! 


THE   WEATHER   VANE.  83 

They  seem  to  be  telling  about  the  strong  wind. 
Their  flapping  and  rustling  delight  the  children. 
Yonder  little  boy  was  about  to  bathe  in  the 
stream,  but  the  wind  is  too  strong  ;  so  he  binds 
his  bath  towel  to  a  tall  staff,  and  high  in  the  air 
it  waves  and  chatters  of  the  wind.  Close  beside 
the  boy  sits  a  little  girl  who  is  watching  with 
delight  the  waving  handkerchief  in  her  out- 
stretched hand.  A  third  child  is  flying  a  kite. 
He  gives  it  more  freedom  than  his  brother  gives 
the  towel,  or  than  the  sister  gives  her  handker- 
chief ;  therefore  it  rises  higher  in  the  air  and 
gives  its  owner  more  pleasure. 

Clap  !  clap  !  clap  !  The  wind  is  driving  the 
windmill  round  and  round  so  fast  that  its  sails 
strike.  Clap  !  clap  !  clap  !  Hearing  the  sound,  out 
runs  a  little  boy  with  his  paper  windmill.  It 
turns  faster  and  faster  as  he  increases  his  speed. 
Whatever  a  child  sees  he  loves  to  imitate.  There- 
fore be  careful,  you,  his  elders,  what  you  do  in 
his  sight. 

"Do  you  see  the  mother  yonder?  She  can 
scarcely  shield  her  little  daughter  from  the  power 
of  the  storm.  Do  you  see  the  man  near  her  ?  He 
finds  it  hard  work  to  keep  his  balance  and  not 
stagger  in  the  raging  wind." 

"  Mother,  this  is  a  very  fierce  wind  ;  it  makes 
everything  bend  and  shake.  See  how  sister's 
hair  is  flying  about,  and  how  the  clothes  dance 
on  the  line  !  Where  does  the  wind  come  from, 
mother,  this  wind  that  moves  so  many  things  ?  " 

"  My  child,  were  I  to  try  to  explain  to  you 
whence  conies  the  wind,  you 


OF  THE 


tTNIVERSITY  ) 


84  MOTHER  PLAY. 

stand  me.  I  might  as  well  talk  to  you  in  a  for- 
eign tongue  as  to  tell  you  that  '  the  pressure  of 
air,  or  its  altered  density,  or  a  change  in  its  tem- 
perature, causes  wind/  You  would  not  under- 
stand a  single  word  of  this  explanation,  But  one 
thing  you  can  understand  even  now :  A  single 
mighty  power  like  the  wind  can  do  many  things 
great  and  small.  You  see  the  things  it  does, 
though  you  cannot  see  the  wind  itself.  There 
are  many  things,  my  child,  which  we  can  be  sure 
of  though  we  cannot  see  them.  There  are  also 
many  things  which  we  can  see  but  which  I  can- 
not explain  to  you  with  words.  Your  little  hand 
moves,  but  you  cannot  see  the  power  that  moves 
it.  Believe  in  and  cherish  the  power  you  do  not 
Bee.  Hereafter,  though  you  will  never  see  it, 
you  will  understand  better  whence  it  comes." 


IV. 

ALL  GONE! 

A  GAME   TO   EXERCISE   THE   WRIST  JOINTS. 

BABY  has  eaten  all  his  food, 

And  mother  says,  "  All  gone  ! " 
The  while  his  questioning  eyes  are  fixed 

The  empty  bowl  upon. 

Oh,  have  you  thought  out  all  it  means, 

When  baby  comes  to  know 
Just  this—"  My  bowl  is  empty  now ; 

'Twas  full  awhile  ago  "  ? 

He's  proved  his  title  to  a  soul ! 

The  creatures  of  the  wood 
Know  not  of  now  or  then,  but  live 

Cramped  in  the  instant's  mood. 

Only  to  soul-life  is  it  given 

To  own  the  hour  that's  fled. 
Blest  token,  that  we  most  shall  live 

When  men  shall  call  us  dead  1 

Every  one  knows  the  waving  movement  of 
the  hand  (the  oscillation  from  an  upright  to  a 
horizontal  position)  which  tells  in  gesture  that 
some  person  has  gone  away,  or  that  of  some  cov- 
eted object  nothing  is  left.  Like  the  Weather 
Vane,  this  game  exercises  the  wrist  joint,  but 
exercises  it  in  a  different  manner.  The  idea  em- 
bodied in  the  All  Gone  is  also  a  reversal  of  the 
idea  embodied  in  the  Weather  Vane.  In  the 

85 


nictjt  mefjr  ba ; 
^  oben  war, 
3ft  imten ; 

jejjt  war, 
©efdjrounben ; 
ift  '*  benn  I^ 

3emanb  ^at '«  genommen. 
Sieb,  einei?  ift  in  betben, 
D'rum  !a§t  fid) '«  ^inb  t>efd>etben. 


ALL  GONE!  87 

Weather  Vane  attention  is  directed  to  a  present 
fulness ;  in  the  All  Gone  it  is  directed  to  a  pres- 
ent lack.  The  former  points  to  permanence ;  the 
latter  to  cessation.  The  one  concentrates  the 
child's  interest  upon  the  present;  the  other  at- 
tracts his  attention  to  the  past,  pointing  him 
again  and  again  to  something  that  has  been  in 
contrast  with  something  that  is.  The  supper  is 
all  gone ;  the  plate  is  empty ;  the  candle  is  burnt 
out. 

The  dog  has  been  with  father  to  the  field ; 
greedily  he  devours  his  food ;  he  seems  to  be  still 
hungry,  but  his  supper  is — all  gone.  The  boy  is 
thirsty.  "  Please,  sister/'  he  says,  "  give  me  some 
water."  "  It  is  all  gone/'  she  replies,  showing 
him  a  glass  which  she  holds  upside  down  that 
he  may  see  for  himself  it  is  empty.  This  un- 
expected and  unwelcome  answer  distracts  his 
attention  from  the  slice  of  buttered  bread  lying 
beside  him.  Sly  puss  seizes  the  opportunity, 
creeps  softly  near  him,  and  steals  his  bread. 
When  the  boy  turns  to  get  it  he  will  find  it — all 
gone. 

Look  at  the  little  girl  standing  on  the  bench. 
I  am  sorry  for  her.  She  meant  to  give  her  canary 
something  to  eat,  but  she  carelessly  left  the  door 
of  its  <iage  open  while  she  turned  to  look  at  the 
empty  glass  in  her  sister's  hand.  "Where  is 
your  canary,  my  child  ?  "  "  O  dear !  O  dear !  it 
is  gone !  it  has  flown  away ! " 

The  little  girl's  brother  tries  to  comfort  her. 
"Come  with  me,  sister,"  he  says;  "come  to  the 
field,  for  I  know  a  tree  where  there  is  a  nest  with 


88  MOTHER  PLAY. 

many  little  birds  in  it.  I  will  get  it  for  yon,  and 
you  shall  have  many  birds  instead  of  one.  Only 
come!  come!" 

The  children  have  all  gone  to  the  old  tree. 
The  older  boy  has  climbed  it  to  get  the  nest. 
The  other  children  watch  him  so  intently  that 
not  one  of  them  notices  the  hungry  dog,  who  has 
followed  them  to  the  field  and  now  stands  quiet- 
ly eating  the  bread  the  younger  boy  holds  in  his 
hand.  When  the  little  fellow  turns  round  he 
too  will  find  his  bread — all  gone.  The  elder 
brother  has  reached  the  nest.  But  what  does  he 
see  ?  The  nest  is  empty ;  the  birds  have  all  flown 
away.  One  little  bird,  however,  flutters  to  the 
ground.  "I  shall  have  you,  at  any  rate,"  says 
the  younger  boy,  throwing  his  hat  over  it.  "  How 
glad  I  shall  be  to  give  you  to  my  sister !  Wait 
here,  little  bird,  in  the  dark,  under  my  hat,  till  I 
pick  the  beautiful  raspberries  growing  on  this 
bush.  How  good  they  will  taste ! "  But  a  frolic- 
some breeze  blows  over  the  hat,  away  flies  the 
bird,  and  the  boy,  coming  back  from  the  rasp- 
berry bush,  cries  out:  "My  bird  is  gone!  my 
bird  is  gone  ! " 

"Mother,  I  don't  like  this  picture.  I  don't 
want  to  look  at  it  again.  Nothing  in  it  stays, 
and  no  one  keeps  what  he  has." 

"  My  child,  if  we  want  to  keep  things  we  must 
be  watchful  and  careful,  and  we  must  not  let  our- 
selves be  tempted  by  everything  we  see.  In  order 
to  have  things  when  we  need  them,  we  must  plan 
for  them  beforehand.  The  boy  forgot  his  bread 
in  thinking  of  his  drink ;  the  little  girl  lost  her 


ALL  GONE!  89 

bird  through,  carelessness.  The  boy  was  doing 
wrong  who  tried  to  steal  the  birds  from  their 
nest.  I  am  glad  their  courage  and  strength 
saved  them  from  being  caught  and  put  into  a 
cage.  The  other  boy  lost  his  bread  by  forgetting 
it  while  he  watched  his  brother ;  and  because  he 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  going  for  the 
raspberries,  he  missed  the  pleasure  of  giving  a 
bird  to  his  sister." 

"  Mother,  let  me  look  again  at  the  little  bird 
that  is  getting  away  from  under  the  dark  hat." 


V. 

TASTE  SONG. 

As  each  new  lite  is  given  to  the  world, 

The  senses — like  a  door  that  swings  two  ways — 

Stand  ever  'twixt  its  inner,  waiting  self 

And  that  environment  with  which  its  lot 

Awhile  is  cast. 

A  door  that  sv.'ings  two  ways: 
Inward  at  first  it  turns,  while  Nature  speaks, 
To  greet  her  guest  and  bid  him  to  her  feast, 
And  tell  him  of  all  things  in  her  domain, 
The  good  or  ill  of  each,  and  how  to  use  ; 
Then  outwai'd,  to  set  free  an  answering  thought. 
And  so,  swift  messages  fly  back  and  forth 
Without  surcease — until,  behold  !  she,  who 
Like  gracious  host  received  a  timid  guest, 
Owns  in  that  guest  at  length  her  rightful  lord, 
And  gladly  serves  him,  asking  no  reward ! 

This  parable,  dear  mother,  is  for  you, 
Whom  God  has  made  his  steward  for  your  child. 
All  Nature  is  a  unit  in  herself, 
Yet  but  a  part  of  a  far  greater  whole. 
Little  by  little  you  may  teach  your  child 
To  know  her  ways,  and  live  in  harmony 
With  her;  and  then,  in  turn,  help  him  through  her 
To  find  those  verities  within  himself, 
Of  which  all  outward  things  are  but  the  type. 
So  when  he  passes  from  your  sheltering  care 
To  walk  the  ways  of  men,  his  soul  shall  be 
^"jL^-Knit  to  all  things  that  are,  and  still  most  free  ! 
And  of  him  shall  be  writ  at  last  this  word,  , 
"  At  peace  with  Nature,  with  himself,  and  God." 

Like  the  Falling  game,  and  for  the  same  rea- 
son, this  song  is  without  a  picture.     Fortunately, 

90 


TASTE  SONG.  91 

however,  illustration  is  even  less  necessary  in 
this  case  than  in  the  other. 

Who  does  not  know  how  you,  dear  mother, 
turn  everything  you  do  with  your  baby  into 
play  ?  Who  does  not  rejoice  that  you  are  able  to 
clothe  the  most  important  truths  of  life  in  the 
garment  of  play  ? 

"  Bite  the  pear ! "  "  Oh,  how  sweet  it  tastes !  " 
"Come,  baby,  taste  this  pretty  currant!"  "It 
puckers  your  little  mouth.  Is  it  sweet  ?  Is  it 
sour?" 

By  such  pretty  devices  you  try  to  nurture  and 
develop  your  child's  sense  of  taste.  By  similar 
playful  tricks  you  cultivate  the  other  senses. 

What  is  more  important  than  a  wise  culture 
of  the  senses  ?  And  what  sense  needs  such  cul- 
ture more  than  the  sense  of  taste,  particularly  if 
under  the  word  taste  we  include  not  only  its  di- 
rect physical  meaning,  but  also  its  metaphorical 
significance  ?  Who  would  wish  to  have  bad  or 
low  taste  ?  Who  is  not  glad  when  it  may  with 
truth  be  said  of  him,  "He  has  good  and  pure 
taste?" 

Why  do  we  commend  a  man  for  good  taste  ? 
Is  it  not  because  through  taste  the  essence  or  soul 
of  objects  is  revealed  ?  The  taste  of  a  thing  tells 
whether  the  thing  itself  is  beneficial  or  baleful, 
life-giving  or  life-destroying.  Indeed,  all  the 
senses  exist  in  order  that  through  them  the  soul 
of  things  may  be  made  known  to  the  soul  of  the 
sensitive  being. 

It  is  a  striking  fact  with  regard  to  the  objects 
of  sense  that  their  inner  being  or  essence  is 


92  MOTHER  PLAY. 

stamped  upon  and  revealed  through  their  phe- 
nomenal being  or  manifestation.  This  is  espe- 
cially the  case  when  the  sense-object  possesses 
harmful  qualities.  It  is  well  known  that  almost 
all  poisonous  plants  warn  and  repel  man  either 
through  their  appearance,  their  odour,  or  their 
taste.  Think  of  the  deadly  nightshade,  the  oak 
apple,  the  spurge  laurel,  and  the  henbane.  Are 
you  not  aware  that  each  one  of  these  plants  utters 
its  own  word  of  warning  ?  If  the  form  and  colour 
of  a  plant  are  silent  with  regard  to  its  nature,  its 
scent  and  taste  will  speak  the  more  clearly  and 
declare  its  danger  through  the  loathing  they  ex- 
cite. Through  a  similar  loathing,  taste  and  smell 
warn  us  against  the  excessive  enjoyment  of  an 
otherwise  harmless  and  pleasurable  sensation. 
Thus,  with  excess,  the  fragrance  of  lilies  produces 
faintness,  and  the  taste  of  honey  becomes  nause- 
ating. He  who  truly  cultivates  his  senses  and  is 
then  pliant  to  their  suggestions  will  learn  through 
them  to  recognise  the  true  nature  of  sense-ob- 
jects, and  will  avoid  on  the  one  hand  injury  to 
his  health,  and  on  the  other  the  necessity  of  de- 
stroying the  sense-object  in  order  to  get  enjoy- 
ment out  of  it. 

The  nature  of  external  objects  is  revealed  in 
the  totality  of  their  attributes.  Through  their 
material  and  cohesion,  through  their  taste  and 
odour,  through  their  form,  colour,  tone,  size,  and 
number,  and  through  the  endless  variation  of  de- 
gree and  relationship  in  these  several  qualities, 
the  objects  of  sense  speak  to  us  and  tell  us  what 
they  are.  The  words  of  the  sage,  "  Speak,  and  I 


TASTE  SONG.  93 

will  tell  you  who  and  what  you  are,"  are  relevant 
not  only  to  human  beings  but  to  all  beings. 
Through  a  wise  culture  of  the  senses  we  learn  to 
read  this  language  of  things.  Such  a  culture  is 
essential  alike  to  the  development  of  the  child  and 
\  to  the  well-being  of  the  man.  It  differs  entirely 
from  the  merely  physical  training  of  sense  given 
by  savages.  Its  aim  is  to  seek  the  inner  nature 
in  the  outer  manifestation.  This  aim  is  realised 
only  as  the  activities  and  attributes  of  sense- 
objects  are  systematically  observed,  compared, 
and  connected. 

Who  is  a  man  of  fine  and  true  taste  ?  It  is  he 
who  reads  aright  the  language  of  things.  It  is 
he  who,  having  discerned  the  inner  being  in  its 
manifestation,  is  thereby  incited  to  prompt  activ- 
ity. It  is  he  who  repels  the  deleterious  and  in- 
vites the  wholesome  influence.  In  a  word,  it  is 
he  who  through  sensation  is  aroused  to  deed. 
Therefore,  dear  mother,  let  it  be  your  aim  so  to 
train  the  senses  that  you  shall  at  the  same  time 
cultivate  the  heart  and  intellect ;  and  in  order  that 
you  may  realise  this  aim,  make  clear  to  yourself 
the  correlative  truths  that  the  soul-activity  of 
your  child  manifests  itself  in  his  sense-activity, 
and  that  through  sense-activity  he  struggles 
towards  the  soul  of  things. 

We  have  seen  that  the  right  use  of  the  data 
of  sense  enables  us  to  classify  objects,  to  recog- 
nise their  reciprocal  relationship,  and  their  influ- 
ence upon  each  other  and  upon  man.  I  should 
add  that  it  also  enables  us  to  determine  the  stage 
of  development  attained  by  any  given  object,  or, 


94:  MOTHER  PLAY. 

in  other  words,  to  recognise  whether  such  object 
is  ripe  or  unripe.  In  its  metaphorical  applica- 
tion this  discrimination  is  one  of  paramount  im- 
portance. How  many  of  the  evils  which  pervert 
and  destroy  individuals,  families,  trades,  and  so- 
cieties have  their  ground  in  premature  or  unripe 
activity,  or  arise  from  expecting  the  fruition  of 
deeds  before  they  have  had  time  to  put  forth 
leaves  and  blossoms. 

It  is  dangerous  to  force  a  premature  activity. 
It  is  dangerous  to  interfere  in  any  way  with  a 
ripening  process.  It  is  dangerous  to  seize  objects 
until  they  are  ripe  and  ready  for  seizure.  It  is 
most  dangerous  to  set  unripe  things  to  work  upon 
other  unripe  things.  Therefore,  mother,  if  you 
would  assure  the  well-being  of  your  children  and 
your  children's  children,  begin  early  to  stir  the 
souls  of  your  darlings  with  premonitions  of  these 
truths.  Begin  to  stir  such  premonitions  while 
your  children  are  still  babies  and  eager  to  bite 
and  taste  everything  around  them.  As  they  ma- 
ture, teach  them  to  recognise  the  definite  stages 
of  development  from  unripeness  to  ripeness. 
Show  them  that  the  use  of  unripe  things  is  con- 
trary to  Nature.  Lead  them  to  understand  that 
the  use  of  what  is  unripe  is  dangerous  alike  to 
physical,  intellectual,  and  moral  life — is  destruc- 
.tive  both  to  the  individual  and  to  society.  If  you 
can  teach  your  children  this  truth  and  make 
them  obedient  to  its  warning,  you  will  be  one  of 
the  greatest  benefactors  of  the  human  race. 


VI. 

FLOWER  SONG. 

THE  Life  Supreme,  that  lives  in  all, 

Gives  everything  its  own ; 
A  soul  remains  itself  despite 
Life's  ceaseless  shift — Death's  sure,  cold  might 

Itself—  though  changed  or  grown. 

And  something  to  a  soul  akin 

Looks  out  from  every  flower ; 
A  lily  is  a  lily  still, 
On  mountain  bleak,  by  meadow  rill, 

In  sunshine  or  in  shower. 

Ten  thousand  roses  June  may  boast, 

All  differing  each  from  each ; 
And  still  the  rose-soul  in  each  one 
Glows  fervent,  as  if  there  alone 

Its  silence  had  found  speech. 

The  importance  of  cultivating  the  senses  has 
been  suggested  in  my  commentary  on  the  Taste 
Song.  In  the  same  commentary  I  have  pointed 
out  the  peculiar  significance  of  the  sense  of  taste 
as  the  organ  through  which  the  inmost  nature  of 
external  objects  is  suggested  to  the  percipient 
subject. 

Closely  allied  to  the  sense  of  taste  is  the  sense 
of  smell.  Indeed,  these  senses  are  like  twin  sis- 
ters in  their  intimate  union  and  their  reciprocal 
influence.  By  complementing  each  other  they 
enable  us  to  recognise  external  objects  as  bene- 

95 


96  MOTHER  PLAY. 

ficial  or  detrimental;  and  this  not  only  in  rela- 
tion to  physical  life,  but  to  the  higher  life  of  the 
spirit.  Very  difficult  would  it  be  to  say  where 
the  purely  physical  influence  of  sensible  objects 
ends  and  where  their  spiritual  influence  begins. 
In  sensation  the  physical  and  psychical,  the 
merely  vital  and  the  intellectual,  the  instinctive 
and  the  moral,  melt  into  each  other.  Hence  the 
importance  of  sense  culture.  Hence  particularly 
the  importance  of  cultivating,  ennobling,  refin- 
ing the  senses  of  taste  and  smell. 

Rightly  regarded,  taste  and  smell  are  seen  to 
be  not  two  distinct  senses  but  two  aspects  of  one 
sense.  Moreover,  they  not  only  complement  each 
other,  but  supply  the  deficiencies  of  the  other 
senses.  Thus  in  many  cases  where  the  data  of 
sight  and  taste  leave  us  in  uncertainty  with  re- 
gard to  the  nature  of  objects,  the  sense  of  smell 
makes  it  clear  to  us.  I  have  already  pointed  out 
the  fact  that  things  which  are  injurious  to  health 
give  warning  of  their  danger  to  the  sense  of  sight 
by  their  gloomy  and  repellent  appearance ;  to  the 
senses  of  taste  and  smell  by  producing  nausea 
and  aversion.  It  may  be  added  that  they  also 
often  warn  the  sense  of  hearing  by  emitting  hol- 
low or  discordant  tones.  As  an  illustration  of 
this  I  may  mention  the  ring  of  different  metals. 
Hence  we  say,  metaphorically  "Such  or  such  a 
person  has  the  true  ring."  Finally,  as  has  been 
already  suggested,  things  in  themselves  good  and 
healthful,  but  which  become  injurious  when  par- 
taken of  in  excess,  warn  us  by  faintness  and  nau- 
sea to  be  temperate  in  our  enjoyment  of  them. 


FLOWER  SONG.  97 

Thus  tlie  scent  of  lilacs  becomes  oppressive  in  a 
small  room.  In  general,  excess  engenders  dis- 
gust, and  disgust  becomes  loathing.  Rightly  in- 
terpreting and  obeying  these  warnings  of  sense, 
we  shall  avoid  what  is  physically  or  morally 
injurious. 

All  these  truths,  dear  mother,  you  may  clothe 
in  a  garment  of  play.  You  may  then  lift  them 
nearer  to  the  light  of  consciousness  by  your  talks 
with  your  child  about  his  play.  Do  not  forget 
the  fact  that  the  data  of  smell,  like  those  of  taste, 
are  important  not  only  in  their  literal  but  in  their 
metaphorical  sense.  It  is  significant  that  in  the 
transfer  of  the  phenomena  of  smell  from  the 
physical  to  the  moral  realm  there  is  usually  im- 
puted to  them  an  evil  meaning.  Thus  we  speak 
of  the  odour  of  hypocrisy ;  or  we  say  "  a  man's 
name  is  in  evil  odour." 

"  Mother,  my  head  aches." 

"What  have  you  been  doing  to  make  it 
ache?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  have  only  gathered  a  great 
many  beautiful  flowers  and  put  them  in  water." 

"  That  is  just  what  is  the  matter.  You  have 
brought  a  great  many  strongly  scented  flowers, 
and  particularly  a  great  many  lilies,  into  a  very 
small  room.  Their  fragrance  makes  the  air  op- 
pressive, and  this  it  is  which  has  given  you  a 
headache.  One  may  do  too  much  even  of  a  good 
thing.  Besides,,  that  which  is  good  in  itself 
needs  plenty  of  room  for  its  activity  in  order 
that  its  influence  may  be  good.  If  this  were 
not  so,  men — yes,  and  little  children  too — would 


98  MOTHER  PLAY. 

selfishly  try  to  gather  and  keep  for  themselves 
the  things  that  are  good  and  beautiful,  and  would 
not  remember  that  the  good  and  the  beautiful 
are  for  all." 

"O   mother,  the  plants  and  flowers  love  us, 
just  as  you  do ! "  * 

*  See  Appendix,  note  vi. 


VII. 
TICK-TACK. 

A  GAME  TO  EXERCISE  AND  DEVELOP  THE  ARMS. 

OH,  teach  your  child  that  those  who  move 

By  Order's  kindly  law, 
Find  all  their  lives  to  music  set ; 
While  those  who  this  same  law  forget 

Find  only  fret  and  jar. 

The  clock  is  not  a  master  hard, 

Kuling  with  iron  hand ; 
It  is  a  happy  household  sprite, 
Helping  all  things  to  move  aright, 

With  gentle  guiding  wand. 

Its  quiet  tick  still  seems  to  say, 

"  Though  time  pass  velvet  shod, 
It  guides  the  universal  round 
Of  worlds  and  souls — for  it  is  found  • 

Deep  in  the  thought  of  God  ! " 

This  game  is  easy  to  play.  Your  child  may 
sit  in  your  lap  or  stand  upon  a  table.  All  that 
is  necessary  is  that  his  arms  should  be  free  so  that 
you  may  swing  them  to  and  fro  like  a  pendulum. 
It  goes  without  saying  that  the  movement  should 
be  made  alternately  with  the  right  and  left  arm. 
It  may,  however,  not  be  superfluous  to  suggest 
that  you  may  further  the  harmonious  physical 
development  of  your  child  by  also  swinging  his 
legs.  Such  varied  exercises  will  contribute  to  his 

99 


mtr 

gebetfct, 

in  Slttem  e«  bte  rt*t1ge  3ett; 
S)arum,  foQ  £>etn  ^inbd)en  gut  ge= 


son  Ortnung    e«   umgeteti 

fetn. 
SBem   tie    Drbnung    tocllt1    *er. 

brte§en  gar, 
2)cr   «5trb  sieler  greubcn  toerben 

taar; 
Seite  barum  fru^  Detn  ^tnb 

•Drbnung  ftin, 
Orbnung  tfi  gewi§  bent  £in 

flewtnn." 


TICK-TACK.  101 

healthy  growth  as  well  as  to  his  beauty,  litheness, 
and  grace. 

"  Shall  we  now  talk  a  little  together  about  the 
picture  ?  You  know  all  I  have  to  say  better  than 
I  know  it  myself.  Indeed,  I  learned  it  from  you 
—learned  it  by  watching  your  thoughtful,  moth- 
erly play/' 

Your  instinct  has  taught  you  truly  that  every- 
thing in  the  nature  of  a  timepiece  has  an  irresist- 
ible charm  for  children.  Why  is  this  ?  The 
movement  of  the  pendulum  has  given  us  the  clew 
to  many  a  truth  of  mathematics  and  mechanics. 
Can  it  be  that  a  presentiment  of  its  suggestive- 
ness  in  these  directions  explains  its  allurement  ? 
There  is  a  certain  remote  kinship  between  the 
rhythmic  swing  of  the  pendulum  and  the  form 
of  our  soul-activity.  Is  this  the  secret  of  its 
charm  ?  Or,  setting  aside  both  these  suggestions, 
shall  we  say  that  the  movement,  the  turning 
wheels,  the  apparent  life  in  the  clock  are  the 
sources  of  its  allurement,  and  that  this  allure- 
ment is  heightened  by  a  sense  of  concealment 
and  mystery  ?  • 

That  each  of  these  explanations  throws  some 
light  upon  the  source  of  the  child's  interest  in 
the  clock  I  freely  admit.  That  any  one  of  them 
or  all  of  them  fully  account  for  his  interest  I 
must  deny ;  for  it  is  not  alone  the  clock  which 
fascinates  him :  his  imagination  is  stirred  by 
any  kind  of  timepiece.  Thus,  children  love  to 
watch  the  slowly  running  sand  in  an  hour- 
glass. They  also  love  to  make  and  watch  sun- 
dials, though  in  these  there  is  no  movement 


102  MOTHER  PLAY. 

save  the  almost  imperceptible  progress  of  the 
shadow. 

My  own  conviction  is  that  the  delight  of  chil- 
dren in  watching,  imitating,  and  making  time- 
pieces springs  from  a  dim  presentiment  of  the 
importance  of  time  itself.  This  conviction  of 
mine  hurts  neither  the  child  nor  any  one  else. 
In  its  practical  outcome  it  is  helpful  to  the  child 
and  to  every  one.  Who  does  not  know  how  much 
depends  upon  the  right  use  of  time  ?  Who  does 
not  know  the  importance  of  order  and  punctu- 
ality in  all  the  relationships  of  life  ?  To  me  it 
seems  that  there  is  no  single  thing  which,  from 
the  day  of  his  birth,  is  more  important  for  man 
than  the  doing  of  things  at  the  right  time.  In 
the  first  moments  after  birth,  indeed,  his  life  itself 
may  be  said  to  depend  on  the  right  use  of  time. 

It  is  therefore  of  the  highest  importance  to 
make  the  allurement  of  the  clock  the  point  of 
departure  for  so  educating  the  child  that  he  shall 
carefully  consider,  truly  apprehend,  and  worthily 
employ  time.  Use  my  little  arm  game  in  this 
spirit.  Lead  your  dear  child  through  playing  it 
to  begin  thinking  about  time,  and  to  begin  to 
feel  that  there  is  a  right  time  for  whatever  he 
has  to  do.  If  you  train  him  in  this  way  he  will 
understand  you  when,  later,  you  deny  him  a 
pleasure  because  it  is  time  for  doing  something 
else. 

"  Mother,  show  me  this  pretty  picture." 

"  My  child,  see  what  your  kitten  is  doing. 
She  is  cleaning  and  smoothing  her  soft  fur  so 
that  it  will  be  a  pleasure  to  look  at  her.  She 


TICK-TACK.  103 

knows  it  will  soon  be  time  for  some  welcome  visit- 
ors to  arrive.  Come,  darling,  come,  and  be  made 
neat  and  clean,  like  your  kitty,  for  two  dear 
friends  will  soon  be  here  to  see  you.  Do  you 
know  who  they  are  ?  They  are  your  father's 
dear  eyes.  They  must  find  you  fresh  and  clean." 

The  child  is  always  having  visitors.  The 
bright  rays  of  the  sun  come  to  see  him ;  so  do  the 
twinkling  stars,  the  shining  moon,  the  white 
doves,  the  fair,  sweet  flowers.  They  love  to  see 
and  play  with  a  clean,  sweet  child.  Teach  your 
child,  mother,  to  love  these  pure  friends,  and  to 
make  ready  for  them  by  being  clean  and  pure 
himself. 

"  Do  you  see  in  the  picture  five  little  children 
who  are  playing  '  clock '  ?  *  These  five  children 
are  surely  five  little  fingers  who  want  to  learn  to 
tell  the  time,  so  that  they  can  do  everything  at 
just  the  right  moment.  Come  here,  you  dear  little 
fingers  on  my  child's  hand,  and  learn  something 
from  the  five  children  in  the  picture." 

*  It  is  characteristic  of  childish  thought  to  link  activity 
with  its  object.  Hence  children  often  form  active  verbs  from 
nouns.  For  example,  a  little  child  said,  "  I  will  road  it,"  instead 
of,  "  I  will  go  play  in  the  road."  This  tendency  should  not  be 
too  abruptly  corrected.  It  furnishes  a  key  to  many  peculiarities 
of  dialect.  Thus,  in  one  part  of  Switzerland  people  say,  "  What 
clock's  it  ?  "  instead  of  "  What  o'clock  is  it !  " 


,,2Bct$  imnter  mit  bem  $tnb« 
Du  cud)  tretbeft, 

in 
'gung  J)u  verbteibeft, 

£rci61  mtt  bem  ^tnbe  nt^W 


©onft  rotrb  e«  babiirc^  letdjt 


2Bte  biefe*  etgentltcf)  if} 

terfle^en, 
2)Jagfl  2)u  jefct  gtftc^  am 

©ptet  ber  Slrme  feben, 
SBenn  fte  ff  ielen  :  ©ra« 

mofcen." 


104 


VIII. 
MOWING   GRASS. 

AN  ABM   GAME. 

TAKE  from  out  the  sweetest  song 
Just  one  note — the  sweetest  one ; 

You  may  sound  it  full  and  strong, 
But  its  music  is  all  gone ! 

And  the  children  learn  to  see, 
In  a  little  game  like  this, 

That  in  true  activity 
Nothing  unrelated  is. 


Your  child's  hands  are  both  at  rest.  The 
forearms  are  extended  in  a  horizontal  position. 
The  palms  of  the  hands  are  downward  and  the 
fingers  are  bent.  They  grasp  your  hands,  which 
are  likewise  extended,  but  have  the  palms  upper- 
most. You  give  your  child's  arms  a  movement 
which  somewhat  resembles  that  made  in  mowing 
grass.  This  movement  exercises  the  elbow  joint, 
and  increases  the  child's  power  to  stand  in  an  up- 
right position. 

Nothing  is  more  dangerous  to  the  health  of 
the  intellect,  nothing  is  more  prejudicial  to  the 
culture  of  the  heart,  than  the  habit  of  looking  at 
particular  objects  and  events  in  detachment  from 
the  great  whole  of  life.  I  admit  that  it  is  often 
necessary  to  ignore  the  connection  between  dif- 
ferent objects  and  acts.  When  your  child,  for 
example,  tells  you  he  is  hungry,  you  must  often 
9  105 


106  MOTHER  PLAY. 

simply  send  him  to  the  cook  for  a  roll  or  to  the 
baker  for  a  bun.  You  should,  however,  correct 
the  tendency  to  which  this  manner  of  satisfying 
his  wants  gives  rise  by  making  perceptible  to 
him  as  often  as  possible  the  series  of  conditions 
which  must  be  fulfilled  before  it  is  possible  to  say 
to  him,  "  Run  to  this  or  that  person  and  get  such 
or  such  things."  You  may  achieve  this  result  by 
making  a  judicious  choice  of  pictures  representing 
the  activities  of  farm,  garden,  and  trade,  by  show- 
ing them  in  their  natural  and  logical  order,  and 
by  connecting  with  them  short  and  graphic  sto- 
ries of  the  life  they  portray.  Doubtless  this  idea 
has  already  occurred  to  you,  and  you  have  in 
some  measure  worked  it  out.  With  your  per- 
mission we  will  hereafter  look  through  a  selection 
of  pictures  and  mature  the  scheme. 

Through  the  little  play  of  Mowing  Grass, 
which  I  now  offer  to  you,  together  with  the  illus- 
tration which  accompanies  it,  you  may  easily 
lead  your  child  to  feel  that  for  his  bread  and  milk 
he  owes  thanks  not  only  to  his  mother,  the  milk- 
maid, the  cow,  the  mower,  and  the  baker,  but  also 
and  most  of  all  to  the  heavenly  Father,  who 
through  the  instrumentalities  of  dew  and  rain, 
sunshine  and  darkness,  winter  and  summer,  causes 
the  earth  to  bring  forth  grass  and  herb  to  nour- 
ish the  cattle  whose  milk  and  whose  flesh  nour- 
ish man.  He  will  understand  you  the  more 
readily  if,  catching  a  hint  from  the  little  boy  in 
the  picture,  you  encourage  him  to  share  the  life 
of  his  elders  by  imitating  their  activities.  As 
he  grows  older  you  should  let  him  plant  his  own 


MOWING  GRASS.  107 

garden,  gather  his  own  harvest  of  fruit  and  flow- 
ers, learn  through  his  own  small  experience  some- 
thing of  the  influence  of  sun,  dew,  and  rain,  and 
gain  thereby  a  remote  presentiment  of  the  recip- 
rocal energies  of  nature  and  a  reverent  feeling 
for  the  divine  life  and  law  expressed  in  nature. 

The  two  children  in  the  picture  who  sit  oppo- 
site to  each  other  weaving  dandelion  chains  ex- 
pect to  join  these  chains  in  one  connected  whole. 
They  know  that  if  they  work  quietly  and  steadi- 
ly, joining  link  to  link,  the  chains  must  at  last 
meet.  So  is  it  with  the  child  who  by  linking  even 
a  few  activities  begins  to  weave  the  chain  of  life. 
The  very  nature  of  his  activity  implies  a  goal, 
and  he  feels  that  some  day,  to  his  joy,  the  chain 
shall  be  rounded  into  a  circle. 

But  what  says  the  tree  beside  which  yonder 
little  lad  is  sitting  ?  Its  form  and  general  ap- 
pearance warn  us,  in  language  not  to  be  misun- 
derstood, against  grafting  what  is  base  or  false 
upon  an  originally  noble  nature.  If  we  neglect 
this  warning  we  must  expect  stunted  growth, 
gnarled  branches,  bitter  fruit. 

And  what  says  the  tree  against  which  leans 
the  tiny  maiden  ?  Its  trunk  is  like  a  broken 
shaft.  In  some  way  its  life  impulse  has  been  de- 
stroyed. Beware,  O  parents,  of  killing  through 
ignorance  or  thoughtlessness  the  impulses  of 
growth  and  development  in  your  children.  Other- 
wise you  will  have  to  grieve  over  lives  which  will 
never  crown  themselves  with  completeness,  but, 
like  this  blighted  tree,  will  yield  wood  and  foli- 
age but  neither  blossoms  nor  fruit. 


,,3Ba«  fann  Iteblicjjer  fetn 
2US  be«  £tnbes  ftnbltdjeS  Spiel, 
3u  win! en  mil  bem  Jpdnb^en  ftein ! 
fi*  ift  be*  SebettS  tebenb 


IX. 

BECKONING  THE   CHICKENS. 

BECAUSE  he  lives  himself,  the  child 

Oft  thinks  that  all  things  live, 
And  pours  his  little  heart  upon 

That  which  no  love  can  give. 

But  when  his  life,  outreaching,  meets 

With  answering  life  around, 
His  wistful  eyes  are  lit  with  joy 

That  comrades  he  has  found. 

The  picture  illustrating  this  play  shows 
clearly  the  mother's  beckoning  hand  and  the 
dear  little  bent  fingers  of  the  baby,  who  tries 
to  imitate  what  she  is  doing.  That  this  move- 
ment exercises  and  strengthens  the  fingers  is 
self-evident. 

This  mother  has  doubtless  heard  what  we 
said  to  each  other  as  we  looked  at  the  picture  of 
Mowing  Grass.  See  the  child  in  her  arms.  No- 
tice his  exuberant  health  and  vigour.  Notice 
how  he  keeps  his  eye  fixed  upon  the  turkeys, 
hens,  and  chickens,  and  how  delightedly  he  lis- 
tens to  their  gobbling,  clucking,  and  peeping. 
Surely  his  mother  has  taken  him  out  of  doors  in 
order  that  he  may  see  in  the  looking-glass  of  na- 
ture the  fresh,  eager  life  that  throbs  in  his  own 
109 


110  MOTHER  PLAY. 

pulses,  and  that  through  seeing  this  life  outside 
of  himself  he  may  feel  it  more  keenly  within 
himself.  Several  groups  of  children,  some  of 
whom  are  her  own,  have  followed  the  mother. 
Who  would  not  follow  where  such  motherly  nur- 
ture leads  the  way  ?  What  child,  especially,  could 
resist  its  charm  ?  Watch  these  children.  Notice 
the  health,  the  mirth,  the  thoughtfulness  which 
are  shown  in  the  expression  of  their  faces  and  in 
their  movements.  Look  at  the  three  little  ones 
yonder  on  the  right  where  the  middle  child  is 
kneeling.  The  life  of  nature  works  upon  them 
like  a  magnet.  It  works  so  powerfully  upon  the 
vigorous  boy  that  he  needs  more  sharers  of  his 
joy  than  the  two  little  girls  beside  him;  so  he 
turns  to  call  the  three  children  who  are  looking 
so  intently  through  the  great  branches  of  the 
tree  at  the  picture  they  frame.  But  these  chil- 
dren do  not  respond  to  his  call ;  they  are  fasci- 
nated by  the  beautiful  view  that  lies  before 
them.  And  just  see  the  child  on  the  left! 
Crouched  on  the  ground,  she  watches  intently 
the  chicken  family,  that  none  of  its  doings  may 
escape  her.  The  elder  girl,  on  the  contrary, 
stands  erect,  and  beckons  to  the  hen  and  rooster ; 
she  wants  them  to  come  to  their  chickens.  In 
her  stir  the  motherly  impulses  of  watchfulness 
and  care. 

Each  child  has  a  vision  of  his  own  inmost  life 
in  the  mirror  of  nature.  This  inmost  life  gains 
fresh  strength  through  beholding  its  reflection. 
So,  too,  the  child  sees  his  life  in  the  mirror  of  his 
mother's  eye. 


BECKONING  THE  CHICKENS.  HI 

Surely  all  these  children  will  grow  up  in 
strength  and  beauty  like  the  luxuriant  climbing 
vine  in  our  picture,  and  in  their  mature  years 
they  will  stand  steadfast  like  the  tree  under 
whose  shade  they  are  now  rejoicing  in  the  life  of 
nature ! 


,,2Ba3  baS  £titb  erfreiten  fann, 
Gutter  fteljt  13  am  Slug1  iftm  an  ; 
m  ^tnb  ftd)  bunfel  regt, 
nn»ott  gern  e«  vflegt." 


X. 

BECKONING  THE   PIGEONS. 

THE  mother  acts  out  for  her  child  ^ 
His  thoughts  unformed  and  dim. 

He  loves  the  pigeons ;  he'll  be  glad 
To  think  that  they  love  him.  J 

What  the  child  has  seen  out  of  doors  the 
mother  repeats  for  him  in  her  indoor  play.  Thus 
the  game  of  Beckoning  the  Pigeons  is  an  indoor 
repetition  of  the  experiences  described  in  my 
commentary  on  the  play  Beckoning  the  Chickens. 

The  mother  sits  by  a  table;  her  baby  is  on 
her  lap.  Her  fingers  patter  along  the  table  to- 
wards him.  These  pattering  fingers  are  the  little 
pigeons,  chickens,  or  sparrows  which  he  has  seen 
running  or  hopping  out  of  doors.  The  sympa- 
thetic life  in  the  child  moves  him  to  do  what  he 
sees  his  mother  do,  so  he,  too,  tries  to  make  his 
little  fingers  patter  across  the  table.  Through 
his  play  he  exercises  his  finger  joints.  So  much 
for  this  game  on  its  external  side. 

'  Life  attracts  life.  The  picture  preceding  this 
one  showed  nature  attracting  the  life  of  children  ; 
this  picture  shows  how  joyful  and  loving  child 
life  attracts  the  life  of  nature,  particularly  the 
life  of  birds.  With  what  trust  the  pigeons  come 
when  the  child  calls !  Running,  fluttering,  flying, 

113 


MOTHER  PLAY. 

they  hurry  towards  him  from  all  sides.  It  would 
almost  seem  as  if  children  and  pigeons  had  some 
common  language,  and  as  if  they  understood  each 
other  all  the  better  because  they  do  not  under- 
stand our  human  speech. 

Mother,  is  there  not  something  analogous  to 
this  fact  in  your  own  experience  ?  Did  not  your 
children  respond  more  quickly  to  your  words 
when  they  were  too  young  to  understand  the 
meaning  of  words  than  they  do  now  when  this 
meaning  is  clear  to  them  ?  Why  is  this  ?  Must 
the  animals  teach  us  ?  In  their  language,  word 
and  fact,  fact  and  word,  word  and  deed,  deed  and 
word,  are  always  one  and  the  same. 


XI. 

THE  FISH  IN  THE  BROOK. 

A  CHILD  regards  with  new  delight 
Each  living  thing  that  meets  his  sight ; 
But  when  within  the  limpid  stream 
He  sees  the  fishes  dart  and  gleam, 
Or  when,  through  pure  transparent  space 
The  bird's  swift  flight  he  tries  to  trace, 
Their  freer  motion  fills  his  heart 
With  joy  that  seems  of  it  a  part — 
A  joy  that  speaks  diviner  birth, 
While  yet  he  treads  the  ways  of  earth. 

The  child  sits  upon  a  table  in  front  of  his 
mother,  01%  it  may  be,  upon  her  lap.  Her  left  arm 
is  thrown  gently  around  him.  Keeping  her  two 
hands  parallel,  the  mother  extends  them  and  then 
alternately  stretches  and  bends  her  fingers  to 
imitate  the  movement  of  swimming.  So  much 
for  the  way  of  playing  this  little  game. 

Birds  and  fishes,  fishes  and  birds ;  why  is  it 
that  in  these  the  child  finds  an  ever  fresh  delight  ? 
Is  it  not  because  they  seem  to  move  with  such 
perfect  freedom,  the  one  in  the  clear  water,  the 
other  in  the  pure  air  ?  Unimpeded  activity  in  a 
pure  element — this  is  the  magnet  which  attracts 
the  child  to  bird  and  fish.  Yet  the  child  tries  to 
catch  fish  and  bird.  Is  not  this  a  contradiction  ? 
Nay,  mother,  to  me  it  seems  not  so.  In  the  bird 

115 


,,SBo  fief)  reges  Seben  jetgt, 
•Rinbletna  Slug1  babtn  flc^  neigt ; 
2Bo  jtd)  1«  jeigt  tm  tffaren,  ^eUc 
^eben'd  ^erjc^en  greubenroeflen 

STOutter   tooa    t 


116 


THE   FISH   IN  THE  BROOK.  H7 

your  child  is  trying  to  catch,  its  glad  flight,  in 
the  fish  its  swimming,  skimming,  diving,  gliding 
movements.  But  no  catching  of  bird  or  fish  can 
avail  him.  The  fish  lies  motionless  on  the  grass ; 
holding  the  bird  he  loses  its  flight.  Within  must 
freedom  be  won,  within  must  purity  be  con- 
quered. The  soul  must  create  the  pure  element 
in  which  it  can  move  freely.  Mother,  make  your 
child's  delight  in  such  free  self-movement  the 
point  of  departure  for  stirring  in  him  a  con- 
sciousness of  this  truth,  and  you  will  be  helping 
him  to  achieve  life's  perfect  peace,  life's  holi- 
est joy. 

"Brother,  catch  me  one  of  the  fishes  swim- 
ming so  merrily  in  the  brook.  Look  at  this 
little  one — now  it  is  here,  now  it  is  there.  Some- 
times it  is  straight,  sometimes  it  is  bent;  it  is 
so  pretty  whatever  it  does.  Oh,  if  I  could  only 
swim  and  glide  and  dip!  if  I  could  wriggle 
and  slip,  how  I  would  tease  you,  brother,  if  you 
tried  to  catch  me !  Please,  brother,  catch  me  a 
fish." 

"  Here  is  a  fish  for  you,  little  sister,  but  hold 
it  tight  or  it  will  slip  away." 

"But,  brother,  it  doesn't  move  any  more;  it 
only  lies  stretched  out  straight.  But  it  is  alive, 
for  it  gasps.  I  will  lay  it  on  the  grass ;  then  it 
will  begin  moving  again.  Oh,  it  does  not  move 
even  in  the  grass ;  it  lies  quite  straight  and  still. 
Why  won't  it  move  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  know,  little  sister,  that  fish  only 
move  in  the  water  ?  Look  again  at  the  fishes 
in  the  brook,  how  merrily  they  are  swimming 


118  MOTHER  PLAY. 

about;  sometimes  they  are  perfectly  straight, 
and  then  how  crooked  !  " 

Mother,  do  you  realise  how  essential  it  is 
that  your  child  should  clearly  seize  the  distinc- 
tion between  the  crooked  and  straight,  especially 
when  these  words  are  used  not  in  a  literal  but  in 
a  metaphorical  sense  ?  "  He  is  a  straightforward 
man.  He  follows  a  straight  path.  He  has  an 
upright  character."  Who  does  not  rejoice  when 
such  words  may  with  truth  be  said  of  him  ?  On 
the  other  hand,  who  is  not  mortified  when  told 
he  is  walking  in  crooked  paths,  or  that  he  is  en- 
gaged in  a  crooked  business  ? 

This  opposition  between  crooked  and  straight 
seems  to  have  been  in  our  artist's  mind  when  he 
was  designing  the  picture  of  the  fish  in  the 
brook.  Straight  and  crooked  are  the  little  fishes ; 
straight  and  crooked  flows  the  water ;  straight 
and  crooked  grows  the  tree  and  around  the 
straight,  slim  arum  the  serpents  are  coiling. 
Seek  to  direct  your  child's  attention  to  the  dif- 
ference between  what  is  straight  and  what  is 
crooked.  Plant  in  his  heart  a  love  for  all  that  is 
straightforward  in  thought,  word,  and  deed,  and 
a  hatred  for  whatever  violates  this  ideal ;  so 
shall  the  mark  of  rectitude  be  upon  his  life  and 
deeds,  and,  using  his  developed  strength  in  its 
right  element,  he  will  be  active,  joyful,  and  free, 
like  the  fish  in  the  clear  brook  and  the  bird  in 
the  pure  air. 


XII. 
THE  TARGET. 

HOWEVER  meaningless  this  game  may  seem, 
There  is  within  it,  more  than  one  would  dream, 
As  hidden  in  the  uncut  gem  there  lies, 
A  rainbow  waiting  to  delight  our  eyes ; 
In  it,  things  differing  and  far  apart 
Are  brought  together — wakening  the  thought 
Of  complex  unity — and  others  still, 
If,  to  see  truth  in  play,  we  have  the  will ; 
But  while  we  search,  a  child  sees  all  with  ease  : 
He  does  not  reason,  but  can  quickly  seize 
Impressions  which,  we  know  not  how,  are  wrought 
Into  the  forming  fibre  of  his  thought ; 
And  while  with  pretty  earnestness  he  eyes 
Upon  his  rosy  palm  the  lines  crosswise, 
'^  Ideas  are  waking  in  his  little  brain 

Of  number,  form,  proportion,  rightful  gain  ; 
And  larger  knowledge,  later  on,  will  come 
Into  a  mind  where  it  will  be  at  home. 
He'll  learn  proportion's  rhythmic  power  to  know — - 
A  power  that  seems  with  growing  thought  to  grow.  / 
)  Little  by  little,  he  will  come  to  see 
That  through  activity  comes  unity,    ' 
And  that  each  one,  who  in  his  place  and  age 
Does  wholesome  work,  should  have  his  proper  wage. 
Dimly  at  first,  but  clearly  by  and  by, 
He'll  see  how  everything — earth,  air,  and  sky, 
Plants,  beasts,  and  men — are  knit  in  one  great  whole,   \  &~^ 
Interdependent,  while  the  ages  roll. 
This  lesson,  that  the  world  spells  out  so  slow, 
The  child  may  come  insensibly  to  know ; 
And  with  this  lesson  taught  each  opening  life, 
Will  come  at  last  the  end  of  man's  long  strife. 

With  this  play  we  enter  upon  a  new  and  dis- 
tinct stage  of  development.     As  a  traditional 
119 


2htd)  tmmer  mog1  erfdjeinen, 
mb'ge  metnen. 
2)er,  tcenn  er  nun  gefd)ltffen, 
S8om  Slug'  mit  Sufi  ergrtffen. 
Gtn'gung  fid)  wobl  finbet ; 
3u  (£inem  fid)  serHnbet ; 
£a'§t  btefed  ©ptel  erfunben 

,  »om  ©ptel  umwunben ; 
©o  wunber&ar  lets  a^net, 
Den  SBeg  jum  gtnfef)'n  basnet.— 
3u  einem  ©anjen  fii^re, 
@tn  rtdjfger  Sof)n  gebiiljre; 
Die  ©adjen  fid)  bebingen, 
3Iu$  Slflent  gern  witt  bringen : 
Unb  tm  ©efvil)!,  erfaffen ; 
3nt  fieben  aud)  nid)t  Jaffen." 


2Bte  beutungslos  bie3  Spiel 
@o  Itegt  barin  bod)  siet, 
(£«  g(eid)t  bem  rofyen  ©tetn, 
(£rfd)eint  ats  garbe 
2Bie  aitd)  23erfd)teb1ne$  gem 
953ie  aud)  ©etrennteg  fern 
Unb  nod)  tttel  Slnb'red  trau'n  ? 
gvir  ben,  ber  Itebt  jit  fd)au'n 
2)te  bod)  be«  ^tnbe«  ©inn 
Unb  tfym  jum  Jpod)gewinn 


Unb  bag  ber  Slrbeit  aud) 
2)o§  nidjt^  ttlOIu^rtt*  fel, 


J>ieS  mad) 

X>ic§  afynenb,  tcirb 


THE  TARGET.  121 

game  it  is  found  in  some  form  in  every  district 
of  Germany.  It  is  common  to  all  German  dia- 
lects, whether  High  or  Low.  It  would  seem,  there- 
fore, that  it  must  meet  some  essential  need  of  the 
child,  and  correspond  with  some  plane  of  his  de- 
veloping life.  In  my  judgment,  it  has  also  im- 
portant bearings  upon  his  whole  career,  for  it 
opens  a  path  which  leads  gradually  towards  the 
life  of  knowledge  and  the  life  of  trade. 

The  manner  of  playing  this  game,  mother,  is 
doubtless  familiar  to  you.  Your  child  stands  or 
sits  in  front  of  you.  He  holds  out  one  of  his 
hands  towards  you,  with  the  palm  uppermost. 
With  the  forefinger  of  his  other  hand,  or  with 
your  own  forefinger,  you  draw  upon  his  extended 
palm  two  lines  intersecting  each  other  at  right 
angles.  At  the  point  of  intersection  you  pretend 
to  bore  a  hole,  and  finally  you  lay  your  free  hand 
upon  your  child's  palm.  While  going  through 
these  varied  movements  you  sing  the  song  of  the 
Target. 

As  I  have  already  said,  this  little  play  is  com- 
mon to  all  the  districts  and  dialects  of  Germany. 
What  is  the  reason  of  its  diffusion  and  popular- 
ity ?  I  frankly  confess  that  I  see  in  it  the  earli- 
est traces  of  an  endeavour  to  attract  the  child's 
attention  to  form  and  position  and  to  the  phe- 
nomena necessarily  arising  from  and  connected 
with  these  qualities.  The  one  line  is  the  line  of 
length,  the  other  is  the  line  of  breadth.  Through 
combination  the  one  is  accentuated  as  vertical, 
the  other  as  horizontal.  They  cut  each  other 
through  their  centres,  thus  forming  four  equal 
10 


122  MOTHER  PLAY. 

and  therefore  right  angles.  Both,  lines  with  their 
four  ends  lie  on  one  plane,  as  is  doubly  proved  by 
the  position  of  the  hands. 

But  what  do  I  hear  you  saying  ?  You  do  not 
understand  one  word  of  all  this,  and,  how  then,  can 
your  child  understand  it  ?  You  are  quite  right. 
Your  child  could  not  understand  a  single  word  of 
what  I  have  said.  Some  vague  idea  of  ihe  facts 
which  the  words  express,  however,  he  must  have, 
or  he  would  not  be  so  much  interested  in  the 
play.  Hence,  thoughtful  mother,  you  may  assure 
yourself  that  some  recognition  of  facts  precedes 
the  understanding  of  words.  If,  therefore,  you 
wish  your  instruction  to  be  natural  and  impres- 
sive, begin  by  giving  concrete  experiences.  Do 
you  ask  why  this  method  is  impressive  and  why 
its  results  are  abiding  ?  I  answer :  That  which 
we  have  ourselves  experienced  makes  a  deep  im- 
pression; for  in  experience  three  things  are  al- 
ways present:  the  particular  fact,  its  universal 
implication,  and  the  relationship  of  both  to  the 
person  who  has  the  experience. 

The  universal  truths  implicit  in  this  play  of 
the  Target  relate  to  form,  size,  and  number,  or,  in 
other  words,  to  the  most  characteristic  qualities 
of  all  material  objects.  Since  it  directs  the  child's 
attention  to  these  characteristic,  qualities,  this 
little  game  may  be  said  to  point  towards  the 
intellectual  mastery  of  all  objects  in  time  and 
space. 

Do  you  see  in  the  picture  three  bowmen  aim- 
ing their  separate  arrows  at  the  same  mark  ?  Do 
you  see  the  three  little  boys  going  off  with  the 


THE  TARGET.  123 

target,  each  feeling  in  his  heart  the  same  pleas- 
ure ?  What  is  our  artist  trying  to  hint  to  us  ? 
Form,  size,  and  number  open  three  paths  to  a 
single  goal.  That  goal  is  comprehension  of  and 
power  over  the  physical  world.  ^  ft-U. 


2flag  aurf)  »oM  etn  Jjof)1rer  ©inn 

3n  bem 
O,  »of)I  Hegt  er  flar  barin  : 

SBttttg  mug  fid)  9tefcre«  fiigen, 
Seber  aud)  jur  renter  3eit 
©eln  an  feinem  £ftett  berett, 

Sett  bag  2Berf  gelingen 

Unb  un«  grcube  bringen." 


XIII. 
PAT-A-CAKE. 

SURELY  there  is  nothing  hid 

In  this  little  game, 
That  is  not  quite  plainly  told 

By  its  name  ? 

Search  a  moment — you  will  find 

Something  deeper  taught ; 
In  the  worlcPs  work  each  must  kelp, 

As  he  ought. 

Like  the  Target,  Pat-a-cake  is  a  familiar  nurs- 
ery game.  It  is  played  not  only  in  Germany 
but  in  England.  It  is  said  to  be  the  only  repre- 
sentative in  the  latter  country  of  the  hand  and 
finger  games  of  which  Germany  possesses  so  rich 
a  collection.  Its  wide  diffusion  points  to  the  fact 
that  simple  mother-wit  never  fails  to  link  the 
initial  activities  of  the  child  with  the  everyday 
life  about  him. 

What  the  natural  mother  does  incidentally, 
intermittently,  and  disconnectedly,  we  must  learn 
to  do  with  conscious  intent  and  in  logical  se- 
quence. We  must  recognise  the  reason  implicit 
in  instinct,  learn  its  methods,  and,  without  losing 
its  naivete  develop  into  a  systematic  procedure 
its  incidental  suggestions.  The  human  spirit  is  a 
Living  unity,  and  should  never  be  content  with  a 
125 


126  MOTHER  PLAY. 

fragmentary  expression  of  its  wholeness.  Hence 
"  the  sweet  reasonableness "  manifested  in  the 
simple  intercourse  between  mother  and  child 
must  not  be  suffered  to  remain  forever  a  blind 
impulse.  It  must  unfold,  on  the  one  side,  into 
conscious  and  spiritual  motherhood,  and,  on  the 
other,  into  that  ideal  childhood  whose  love  and 
yearning  and  prescient  hope  testify  that  it  holds 
the  "  all "  in  its  heart.  For  the  immanence  of  the 
whole  in  feeling  is  the  necessary  presupposition 
of  the  penetration  of  the  whole  by  thought. 

On  its  external  side  Pat-a-cake  is  so  well 
known  that  only  a  few  hints  need  be  given  with 
regard  to  the  manner  of  playing  it  and  to  its 
physical  effects.  The  child  stands  or  sits  in  front 
of  her  who  so  tenderly  cherishes  his  life.  Hold- 
ing his  hands  in  an  upright  position,  with  the 
palms  touching  each  other,  the  mother  claps 
them  energetically.  The  physical  points  of  the 
game  are  the  attitude  of  the  whole  body,  the  po- 
sition of  the  arms,  and  the  exercise  of  the  elbow- 
joint. 

I  have  already  said  that  this  game  had  its  ori- 
gin in  an  effort  to  make  the  impulsive  move- 
ments of  the  infant  the  means  of  introducing 
him  to  a  knowledge  of  the  activities  about  him, 
and  to  their  reciprocal  relationships.  The  bread, 
or,  better  still,  the  little  cake  which  the  child 
likes  so  much,  he  receives  from  his  mother ;  the 
mother,  in  turn,  receives  it  from  the  baker.  So 
far  so  good.  We  have  found  two  links  in  the 
great  chain  of  life  and  service.  Let  us  beware, 
however,  of  making  the  child  feel  that  these  links 


PAT-A-CAKE.  127 

complete  the  chain.  The  baker  can  bake  no  cake 
if  the  miller  grinds  no  meal ;  the  miller  can  grind 
no  meal  if  the  farmer  brings  him  no  grain ;  the 
farmer  can  bring  no  grain  if  his  field  yields  no 
crop ;  the  field  can  yield  no  crop  if  the  forces  of 
Nature  fail  to  work  together  to  produce  it ;  the 
forces  of  Nature  could  not  conspire  together  were 
it  not  for  the  all-wise  and  beneficent  Power  who 
incites  and  guides  them  to  their  predetermined 
ends. 

Doubtless  the  little  children  in  our  picture, 
who  are  playing  "Bake  bread,  eat  bread,"  have 
been  taught  to  feel  this  inner  unity,  connected- 
ness, and  harmony  of  life.  Do  not  disturb  their 
ingenuous  play.  Rather  avoid  noticing  it,  unless 
your  own  heart  responds  to  the  devout  feeling 
which  inspires  it.  These  children  are  not  pro- 
faning what  is  holy  ;  they  are  nurturing  the  im- 
pulse out  of  which  shall  spring  the  consecration 
of  secular  life. 

How  shall  your  child,  either  now  or  hereafter, 
cultivate  his  sense  for  what  is  holy,  if  you  nip 
that  budding  germ  of  devotion  which  seeks  child- 
like expression  in  serious  play  ?  Such  play,  how- 
ever, must  be  spontaneous,  artless,  and  free  from 
all  attempts  at  show.  Beware,  therefore,  of  any 
look  or  word  that  may  destroy  the  simplicity  of 
an  action  which  originally  springs  unsummoned 
from  that  holiest  of  holies,  the  young  child's 
heart. 


1  im  Sitbe  ju  erMtrfen,     ! 
fd)on  ba$  .Stnb  erfreun ; 
Du  brunt  Dem  ^inb  i»e= 
gliicfen, 

'  ba«  JBtlb  tftm  oft  erneun ; 
2)a§  bae,  »ag  im  geben  »ohr, 

1  out^  im  ©emiitl}  iljm  flar."  < 


128 


. 

XIV. 
THE  NEST. 

IN  the  pretty  picture 

Of  the  nested  birds 
Baby  reads  Ms  "  love-song  " 

Written  without  words — 
Hears  the  nestlings  calling, 

And  his  heart  calls,  too; 
'• 'As  they  need  their  mother, 

So  his  heart  needs  you. 

The  picture  illustrating  this  game  shows 
clearly  the  position  of  the  hands.  I  need  only 
explain  that  at  the  beginning  of  the  game  the 
thumbs  are  turned  downward  and  inward,  to 
make  the  eggs  in  the  nest.  At  the  words  "  The 
eggs  are  hatched,"  the  tips  of  the  thumbs  rise,  to 
represent  the  throats  and  heads  of  two  little  birds. 
At  the  words  "  Mother  dear,  peep ! "  the  thumbs 
move,  to  show  that  the  little  birds  are  seeking 
their  mother. 

It  goes  without  saying  that  in  the  first  in- 
stance this  game  is  played  by  the  mother  or 
nurse,  the  baby  merely  looking  on.  As  he  de- 
velops, however,  the  instinct  of  imitation  will 
prompt  him  to  make  the  nest,  eggs,  and  birds 
himself. 

129 


130  MOTHER  PLAY. 

The  mother  who  thoughtfully  observes  her 
child's  life  and  obediently  responds  to  its  mani- 
festations, knows  that  devej£pm£jiJLi.s_a  gradual' 
process^  and  that  no  great  truth  can  be  taught 
in  a  single  lesson.  The  feeling  that  all  life  is 
one  life  slumbers  in  the  child's  soul.  Only  very 
gradually,  however,  can  this  slumbering  feeling 
be  transfigured  into  a  waking  consciousness. 
Slowly,  through  a  sympathetic  study  of  Nature 
and  of  human  life,  through  a  growing  sense  of 
the  soul  and  meaning  of  all  natural  facts  and  of 
all  human  relationships,  and  through  recreating 
in  various  forms  that  external  world  which  is 
but  the  objective  expression  of  his  own  inmost 
being,  the  individual  attains  to  a  consciousness 
of  the  connectedness  and  unity  of  life  (Lebens- 
zusammenhang  und  Lebenseinheit)  and  to  a 
vision  of  the  Eternal  Fountain  of  Life. 

Through  the  play  of  The  Birds'  Nest,  mother, 
you  take  a  few  short  steps  upon  one  of  the  paths 
which  lead  towards  this  goal,  viz.,  the  path 
which  starting  from  sympathy  with  Nature,  {, 
runs  through  study  of  Nature  to  comprehension 
of  the  forces,  laws,  and  inner  meaning  of  Nature. 
You  are  incited  to  enter  upon  this  path  by  your 
feeling  that  a  prophetic  sense  of  the  inner  connect- 
edness of  Nature  stirs  and  dreams  in  your  child's 
heart.  You  also  feel  that  there  is  no  single 
object  in  Nature  which  has  more  power  to  lift 
his  dreaming  presentiment  into  waking  conscious- 
ness than  a  bird's  nest. 

Consider  the  time  when  the  bird  builds  her 
nest :  it  is  the  early  springtime,  when  all  Nature 


THE  NEST.  131 

begins  to  unfold.  The  warmth  of  spring  and 
summer  gives  the  nestlings  an  opportunity  to 
develop  and  grow  strong,  and  an  increasing 
supply  of  food  keeps  even  pace  with  their  in- 
creasing need  of  nourishment.  By  the  time  that 
the  chilly  autumn  and  frosty  winter  have  come 
the  nestlings  are  so  strong  that  they  can  seek  the 
food  they  need,  and  either  bear  the  cold  or  fly 
I  away  from  it. 

Consider,  again,  the  places  in  which  birds  build 
!  their  nests.  They  always  choose  a  spot  where 
they  can  find  plenty  of  food.  Near  human  dwell- 
ings are  many  flies,  gnats,  and  spiders,  so,  as  our 
picture  shows  us,  sparrows  and  swallows  build 
between  the  rafters  of  houses.  In  the  hedge, 
which  is  so  rich  in  insects,  the  hedge-sparrow  and 
the  robin  make  their  homes.  The  titmouse 
builds  in  hollow  trees  where  there  are  plenty  of 
worms ;  the  stork  near  some  spot  where  frogs 
abound. 

No  less  important  than  time  and  place  is  the 
style  of  nest-building.  Thus  the  nest  of  the  finch, 
built  between  the  branches  of  the  apple  tree  looks 
so  much  like  its  bark  that  it  is  scarcely  possible 
to  distinguish  one  from  the  other ;  and  the  long- 
tailed  titmouse  protects  her  young  from  danger 
by  building  a  nest  which  looks  like  a  bundle  of 
moss. 

To  these  and  analogous  facts  with  regard  to 
the  time  and  place  of  nest-building,  and  to  that 
wonderful  mimicry  through  which  birds  insure 
the  safety  of  their  nestlings,  the  child's  attention 
should  be  often  and  sympathetically  directed. 


132  MOTHER  PLAY. 

Nothing,  however,  will  so  tenderly  stir  his  heart 
as  the  nakedness,  softness,  and  weakness  of  little 
birds,  and  to  his  young  imagination  all  Nature 
will  seem  to  share  his  wish  to  shelter  and  feed 
them. 

"Mother,  mother,  only  see  the  nest  full  of 
baby  birds  which  these  children  have  found !  It 
is  a  good  thing  that  the  children  have  come,  for 
the  little  birds  were  all  by  themselves.  Their 
father  and  mother  had  left  them.  I  am  so  sorry 
for  the  poor  little  things !  " 

"  You  are  mistaken,  my  darling ;  their  mother 
has  only  gone  to  find  some  gnats  and  worms  to 
feed  her  babies.  She  will  soon  come  back.  And 
see,  there  is  the  father,  sitting  near  by  on  the 
bough  of  the  tree.  He  is  watching  his  babies  so 
that  nothing  may  harm  them  while  their  mother 
is  away.  And  while  the  mother  seeks  food  and 
the  father  keeps  watch,  the  kind,  warm  sun  peeps 
into  the  nest  and  takes  care  of  the  birdies  just 
like  the  mother  herself.  Only  see  how  comfort- 
able they  are ! 

"  In  the  branches  of  the  tree  is  another  nest. 
There  are  little  birds  in  it,  though  you  cannot 
see  them.  Their  mother  also  has  gone  to  seek 
food  for  her  hungry  nestlings.  As  she  flies 
about  she  says  to  herself,  'If  I  can  only  find 
plenty  of  worms  for  my  babies,  how  glad  I  shall 
be!" 

"Sometimes,  darling,  I  am  like  this  bird- 
mother.  I  cannot  always  be  close  by  you ;  but 
you  must  not  cry  because  you  do  not  see  me. 
You  are  my  own  dear  little  child,  and  wherever 


THE  NEST.  133 

I  may  bo  I  am  thinking  of  you.  Besides,  even 
when  I  am  away  from  you  you  are  not  alone,  for 
you  have  the  dear  heavenly  Father's  sunlight. 
But  remember,  the  sunbeams  do  not  like  a  crying 
child ! » 


1  bem  ^tnbcfjen  ju  ge« 
fialten, 

if>m  ba«  ©emiitf)  be- 
wegt; 

Denn  auc^  be«  ^i 
!ann  alten, 


134 


XV. 

THE  FLOWER  BASKET. 

WELCOME  each  small  offering 
That  a  young  child's  love  may  bring, 
Though  perchance  he  stint  himself 
Of  some  childish  joy  or  pelf; 
For  love  grows  with  being  spent, 
But  starves  in  its  own  plenty  pent. 

The  position  of  the  hand  is  clearly  shown  in 
the  drawing.  The  little  finger  of  the  right  hand 
is  laid  upon  the  index  finger  of  the  left,  the  finger 
tips  of  the  right  hand  are  placed  in  the  angle  be- 
tween the  thumb  and  index  finger  of  the  left ;  in 
this  position  the  palms  and  fingers  form  a  hemi- 
spherical hollow.  Manifestly  the  relative  posi- 
tions of  the  hands  may  be  reversed.  In  both 
cases,  however,  the  tips  of  the  thumbs  are  bent 
outward.  The  physical  object  of  the  game  is  to 
exercise  the  hand  in  bending,  and  thus  increase 
its  flexibility.  Its  spiritual  aim  is  to  strengthen 
the  invisible  cord  by  which  the  child  is  tethered 
to  his  fellows,  and  it  pursues  this  aim  in  the 
simplest  and  most  natural  manner  by  making 
family  relationships  and  affections  its  point  of 
departure. 

"Why  are  the  children  so  busy  gathering 
flowers  to  fill  this  pretty  basket  ?  Why  is  their 
mother  cutting  the  beautiful  lilies  ?  " 

135 


136  MOTHER  PLAY. 

"Let  me  look  at  the  picture,  darling,  and  I 
will  tell  you  what  I  think.  It  must  be  their  dear 
father's  birthday.  Yes,  that  is  just  it.  Yonder 
in  the  summer-house  on  the  hill  sits  the  father, 
and  if  I  see  rightly  he  has  a  pencil  in  his  hand. 
I  am  sure  he  is  drawing  a  pretty  picture  for  his 
children.  He  wishes  to  give  them  a  pleasure  on 
his  birthday.  Perhaps  he  is  drawing  the  hills  in 
the  early  morning  light,  with  the  beautiful  sun 
rising  so  quietly.  Perhaps  it  seems  to  him  that 
this  still  sunrise  is  something  like  the  life  of  his 
dear  children,  or  like  his  own  life  when  he  was  a 
little  child.  His  youngest  daughter  seems  to  have 
something  of  the  same  feeling.  She  cannot  wait 
until  the  large  basket  is  filled  with  flowers.  She 
has  filled  a  little  basket  all  by  herself  and  runs  to 
give  it  to  her  father.  'Here,  dear  papa/  she 
says,  '  here  are  some  flowers  for  your  birthday. 
Do  you  like  them  ?  Mother  and  sister  and 
brother  have  some  more  flowers  for  you,  and  oh, 
such  pretty  ones ! ' 

" '  Why,  my  darling/  says  her  father,  '  your 
little  flowers  are  beautiful,  too.  They  are  so 
fresh  and  pure.  How  glad  they  make  me  !  How 
glad  everything  makes  me  to-day ! ' ' 

"  Mother,  why  is  the  father  so  glad  ?  " 

"  My  child,  he  is  glad  because  the  sun  shines 
kindly,  because  the  sky  is  so  blue,  because  the  air 
is  so  mild,  because  the  birds  are  singing  and 
twittering  so  merrily,  because  the  field  is  so  gay 
with  flowers  and  so  sparkling  with  dew.  Even 
the  old  tower  yonder  in  the  wood  looks  as  if  it 
was  trying  to  say  'Good-morning'  and  'Happy 


THE  FLOWER  BASKET.  137 

birthday.'  All  these  things  help  to  make  the 
father  glad ;  but  he  is  telling  his  little  girl  that 
they  could  not  make  him  happy  if  he  had  no 
sweet  daughter,  and  she  had  no  sister  and  no 
brother." 

"And  no  dear,  good  mother.  The  father  is 
sure  to  say  that,  too." 

"  Yes,  of  course  he  is  saying  that,  too ;  for  he 
loves  the  mother,  and  he  knows  how  dearly  she 
loves  him,  and  all  her  little  children.  And  what 
else  do  you  think  he  is  saying  ?  (  Do  you  know, 
darling/  he  asks,  'who  I  must  thank  for  all 
these  good  things  ? '  The  little  girl  thinks  to  her- 
self: 'Father  ought  to  have  everything  that  is 
good,  because  he  is  so  good  himself/  But  the 
father  says :  '  I  must  thank  God  who  gave  rne  life, 
God  who  gives  life  to  all,  God  who  is  the  Father 
of  all.  He  gives  me  the  many  good  things  which 
make  me  so  happy  to-day.  When  mother  and 
sister  and  brother  come  we  will  thank  him  to- 
gether/ * 

"  This  is  what  the  father  is  saying  to  his  little 
daughter.  Shall  you  and  I  thank  God,  too  ?  " 

"  Mother,  when  is  my  father's  birthday  ?  " 

*  Here  Froebel  inserts  some  rhymes,  of  which  Miss  Lord 
gives  the  following  translation : 

"  Just  as  the  birds  all  thankful  sing, 
As  larks  poise  high  on  fluttering  wing, 
As  swallows  praise  Him  in  their  flight, 
And  flowers  bloom  towards  the  light ; 
And,  in  the  lovely  early  dawn 
A  happy  smile  is  on  the  lawn, 
All  things  with  a  shout  and  song 
Give  forth  thanks  most  glad  and  strong." 

•^~~-  LIB&A";. 

OFTHF 


,,2BaS  baS  tfinb  tm  Snnern 

fiiblt, 

©era  e^aud)tm  Slujjern  fpiett. 
SBie  '«  3!flub^en  jliegt  in  ' 

SBette, 

2lM*gel?n    Unbent 


balb  ben 

3u  $au»  lag  spfleg1  ed  ftnben, 
©efunbene«  ju  wtnben 

5n  etnen  bunten 
SBaS  ftd)  getrennt  Ue§  ftnben, 
Gnablunfl  mag  '«  werttnben  : 

@o  wirb  fcaa  fieben  ganj." 


138 


XVI. 
THE   PIGEON  HOUSE. 

A    GAME    TO    EXERCISE     ARMS,    HANDS,    AND    FINGERS. 

(CHILDREN  ever  are  projecting 

Into  play  the  life  within, 
Like  a  magic  lantern  throwing 
Pictures  on  the  waiting  screen. 

Glad  outgoing,  sweet  horne-coming, 

In  this  little  game  they  see ; 
At  the  real  home-comings,  mother, 

Gather  them  about  your  knee  ; 

Ask  them  of  each  sight  and  happening 

In  the  quiet  twilight  hour  ; 
Help  them  weave  it  all  together 

Like  a  garland,  flower  to  flower. 

With  the  years,  the  larger  knowledge 
Of  life's  wholeness  then  will  come, 

And  its  twilight  hour  will  find  them 
With  themselves  and  God  at  home. 

The  position  of  the  hands  is  shown  with  toler- 
able clearness  in  the  drawing.  The  left  arm  is 
vertical  and  represents  a  pole ;  the  hands  so  joined 
as  to  suggest  a  quadrangular  form  make  the 
pigeon  house.  The  fingers  of  the  right  hand  are 
extended  and  bent  to  show  the  opening  and  clos- 
ing of  the  pigeon-house  door.  By  various  other 
movements  they  represent  the  pigeons.  In  order 
139 


140  MOTHER  PLAY. 

to  exercise  and  develop  both  arms  equally,  the 
right  arm  may  sometimes  make  the  pole  on  which 
the  pigeon  house  is  set,  while  the  fingers  of  the 
left  hand  represent  the  opening  and  closing  door 
and  the  flying  pigeons. 

The  baby  is  delighted  to  watch  his  mother 
play  the  Pigeon  House.  When  he  is  old  enough 
to  play  it  himself  it  gives  him  still  greater  joy. 
The  source  of  this  joy  is  that  the  game  helps 
him  "  to  stretch  his  own  little  life "  so  that  it 
may  include  something  of  the  great  life  of  Na- 
ture. The  yearning  to  inhale  the  life  of  Nature 
awakens  early  in  the  human  soul.  The  young 
child  loves  to  take  it  in  with  long,  deep  breaths. 
Hence  he  longs  to  be  out  of  doors,  and  especially 
to  watch  the  quick,  free  movements  of  birds  and 
animals.  Mother,  cherish  this  longing,  and,  when- 
ever possible,  give  your  child  that  intimacy  with 
Nature  which  he  craves ;  but  do  not  imagine  that 
his  craving  can  be  stilled  by  any  merely  external 
experience.  His  soul  seeks  the  soul  of  things. 
His  spirit  strives,  however  unconsciously,  to  pene- 
trate  the  phenomenal  and  transitory ;  to  find  the 
absolute  and  abiding ;  to  recognise  in  the  particu- 
lar  a  deep-lying  universal ;  to  discern  unity  and 
community  in  what  appears  detached  and  soli- 
tary. As  child  of  man,  or,  in  other  words,  as  a 
particular  incarnation  of  generic  humanity,  as 
"  child  of  God,"  a  single  vital  spark  of  the  divine 
flame,  he  seeks  and  must  ever  seek  Unity,  the 
Being  that  is  One  in  and  for  itself — God.  Foster 
this  effort  of  the  soul,  and  make  your  child  aware 
of  it  as  a  moving  impulse  even  while  its  source 


THE  PIGEON  HOUSE. 

and  meaning  are  still  incomprehensible  to  him. 
Dare  not  to  say  to  yourself  that  such  spiritual 
nurture  may  be  given  too  early.  Too  early !  Do 
you  know  when,  where,  and  how  spiritual  life 
begins  ?  Can  you  trace  the  boundary  line  be- 
tween its  being  and  its  non-being  ?  In  God's 
world,  just  because  it  is  God's  world,  all  things 
develop  in  unbroken  continuity.  Therefore  re- 
vere the  impulse  which  stirs  within  you  to  fan 
the  first  faint  sparks  of  spiritual  life.  So  doing, 
the  impulse  itself  will  grow  strong  and  clear,  and 
what  you  bear  in  your  heart  will  manifest  itself 
increasingly  in  your  life. 

It  is  never  too  early  to  begin  the  nurture  of 
spiritual  life.     Such  nurture  may,  however,  be 
begun  in  a  wrong  way.     The  mistake  lies  not  in 
Sthe  "  when  "  but  in  the  "  how."    Your  baby  must 
learn  to  step  before  he  can  learn  to  run ;  he  must 
learn  to  stand  before  he  can  learn  to  step;  he 
must  strengthen  and  develop  his  legs,  and  indeed 
his  whole  body,  before  with  ease  and  pleasure  he 
can  learn  to  stand.     If  you  force  him  to  stand 
and  walk  too  soon  he  will  have  weak  bowlegs ; 
if  you  keep  him  too  long  from  walking  and  stand- 
ing he  will  be  stiff,  clumsy,  and  awkward.     In 
{  the  law  of  physical  evolution  you  may  read  the 
Uaw  of  spiritual  evolution.     Force  a  premature 
development  of  spiritual  life  and  it  will  be  weak 
and  distorted ;  retard  it  unduly  and  it  will  lack 
freedom,  expansiveness,  and  grace.     How  many 
men  and  women  do  we,  all  of  us,  know  who  are 
going  through  life  with  dispositions  as  deformed 
as  the  child's  bowlegs  ?    How  many  do  we  know 


142  MOTHER  PLAY. 

whose  souls  are  wholly  unfledged,  or  have  at  best 
mere  rudimentary  wings  ?  Mother,  mother,  never 
forget  the  interdependence  of  all  the  separate 
stages  of  life ;  rear  your  child  in  harmony  with 
the  universal  laws  of  continuity  and  degree,  and 
adopt  as  your  motto  the  words,  "The  earthly 
destiny  of  man  is  to  make  his  own  life  a  whole, 
and  to  understand  the  wholeness  of  all  life." 

But  we  must  not  forget  our  Pigeon  House  nor 
the  simple  law  of  life  which  it  illustrates.  This 
law  seems  to  be  alive  in  the  heart  of  the  mother. 
It  is  also  stirring  in  the  pulses  of  every  child  in 
the  picture.  The  healthy,  active,  gleeful  baby 
sitting  so  securely  in  his  mother's  arms  never 
once  turns  away  his  glance  from  the  pigeons  on 
the  ground ;  he  seems  to  be  trying  to  catch  them 
with  his  eyes  that  he  may  take  them  home  with 
him.  The  little  boy  in  front  of  the  mother  stands 
motionless,  his  enchanted  gaze  fixed .  upon  a  tit- 
mouse who  is  sitting  on  a  tree  near  by.  From 
this  tree  a  rotten  branch  has  been  cut,  and  in  its 
hollow  stump  the  titmouse  has  made  her  home. 
She  longs  to  slip  into  the  hole  where  her  babies 
are  waiting  for  her ;  yet,  in  order  not  to  betray 
them,  she  sits  with  head  averted  from  her 
nest.  The  little  boy  is  so  interested  in  watching 
her  that  he  forgets  the  apple  in  his  hand  and 
comes  near  dropping  it.  He  is  afraid  of  startling 
the  bird,  and  whispers  so  gently  that  he  can 
scarcely  be  heard  :  "  Mother,  look  at  the  tree  yon- 
der ;  do  you  see  where  the  bough  has  been  cut 
away  ?  do  you  see  a  little  hole  ?  I  think  there  is 
a  nest  in  it."  His  sympathetic  mother  begins  to 


THE  PIGEON  HOUSE.  143 

walk  more  slowly  and  softly,  and  turns  her  glance 
towards  the  anxious  little  mother  bird. 

The  two  children  who  are  coming  home  from 
a  walk  must  have  seen  something  of  real  impor- 
tance to  their  own  lives,  for  they  are  evidently 
completely  absorbed  in  what  they  are  saying  to 
each  other  about  it. 

On  the  right  of  our  picture  sits  a  mother  talk- 
ing with  her  little  son.  Let  us  listen  to  their 
conversation. 

"  Tell  me,  dear,  where  you  have  been." 

"  In  the  yard,  in  the  garden,  in  the  field,  in 
the  meadow,  at  the  pond,  by  the  brook." 

"And  what  beautiful  things  did  my  darling 
see  ? " 

"  Pigeons  and  chickens ;  geese  and  ducks ; 
swallows  and  sparrows ;  larks  and  finches ;  ra- 
vens, magpies,  water  wagtails  and  titmice  ;  bees, 
beetles,  butterflies,  and  humble-bees." 

"Where  did  you  see  the  pigeons  arid  chick- 
ens?" 

"  In  the  yard,  mother ;  they  were  picking  up 
grains  of  wheat  and  eating  them.  How  fast  the 
little  chickens  ran  whenever  they  found  anything 
to  eat,  or  when  the  old  rooster  called  to  them 
that  he  had  found  something !  The  pigeons  could 
not  run  so  fast  as  the  chickens ;  neither  could 
the  ravens  I  saw  in  the  field.  One  raven  ran 
almost  as  a  pigeon  runs,  and  the  black  pigeon 
when  it  was  running  looked  like  a  raven.  But 
how  the  ravens  and  magpies  could  hop!  So 
could  the  water  wagtails  and  the  sparrows.  It  is 
such  fun  to  see  them  hopping  about  on  their  little 


144  MOTHER  PLAY. 

stiff  legs !     Oh,  mother,  you  must  go  with  me 
the  fields  some  day  and  let  me  show  them  to  yoi 
And  the  geese  and  ducks,  how  they  swim  and 
dive !     They  can  fly,  too,  for  they  flew   straight 
over  my  head  and  away  to  the  pond.     How  they 
frightened  me ! " 

"Why  shouldn't  they  fly,  my  child?  They 
are  birds,  just  like  the  pigeons  and  chickens,  the 
swallows  and  sparrows,  the  finches  and  the 
larks/' 

"  Mother,  are  pigeons  and  hens  birds  ?  " 

"  My  child,  haven't  they  feathers,  haven't  they 
wings,  haven't  they  two  legs,  as  all  other  birds 
have?" 

"But  pigeons  live  in  the  pigeon  house,  and 
chickens  don't  fly !  " 

"  Chickens  have  only  forgotten  how  to  fly  be- 
cause they  fly  so  little.  If  we  wish  not  to  forget 
a  thing  we  must  always  keep  on  doing  it.  As  for 
the  pigeons,  why  shouldn't  they  live  in  the  pigeon 
house  ?  Sparrows  and  swallows  are  birds,  and 
they  live  in  houses  and  under  roofs." 

"  Mother,  are  bees  and  beetles  and  butterflies 
birds,  too  ?  They  have  wings,  and  can  fly  much 
higher  than  chickens  and  ducks." 

"Yes,  they  can  fly,  but  they  have  no  feathers 
and  build  no  little  nests.  Besides,  there  are 
many  things  birds  have  which  bees  and  butter- 
flies have  not.  They  are  animals,  for  they  can 
move  as  they  wish.  They  also  Jiave  some- 
thing which  birds  have  not.  Look  at  this  beetle, 
and  then  at  this  little  fty.  See,  they  have  a 
notch  here,  and  another  there.  We  call  these 


THE   PIGEON  HOUSE.  145 

notches  sections,  and  the  little  notched- creatures 
insects/'  * 

"  Mother,  when  I  again  go  out  of  doors  you 
must  go  with  me." 

"  I  cannot  promise  to  go  with  you,  my  darling, 
for  I  have  much  to  do.  I  must  put  the  house  in 
order,  cook  you  something  to  eat,  and  make  you 
some  little  clothes.  Out  of  doors  everything  is 
in  beautiful  order ;  each  thing  has  its  own  place, 
each  has  its  own  work,  which  it  does  with  joy. 
It  seems  to  me  I  can  hear  the  dear  God  who  made 
this  beautiful,  orderly  world  saying  to  me, 
'Wife,  mother,  in  your  little  home  everything 
must  be  in  order,  and  every  person  in  the  house 
must  do  his  work  at  the  right  time/  But  this  is 
not  all  he  says  to  me.  He  tells  me  that  every 
person  in  the  whole  world  must  find  his  right 
place,  and  do  his  right  work  at  the  right  time. 
He  tells  me  that  while  my  child  is  still  young  and 
small  he  may  flutter  about,  exercising  his  strength 
as  birds  exercise  their  wings.  After  a  while  he 
must  be  like  the  firmly  rooted  apple  tree,  so  that 
his  life  may  bear  healthy  fruit.  But  be  sure, 
dear,  when  you  go  out  of  doors  to  see  all  you  can, 
so  that  you  may  have  much  to  tell  me  when  you 
come  home." 

"  Mother,  to-morrow  I  am  going  again  to  the 
fields.  When  I  come  home  I  shall  have  new 
things  to  tell  you,  and  you  will  explain  to  me 
again  what  the  dear  God  is  saying." 

*  I  borrow  this  translation  of  Kerben  and  Kerbthiere  from 
Miss  Lord. 


146  MOTHER  PLAY. 

Postscript. — Teaching  and  learning  go  on  all 
through  man's  life.  The  oldest  teacher  has  much 
to  learn,  and  must  always  be  ready  to  let  himself 
be  taught  by  animals,  trees,  and  stones,  as  well  as 
by  men.  Here  is  a  lesson  I  have  learned  lately 
from  the  pigeons :  While  making  a  round  of  visits, 
I  spent  some  days  with  a  friend  who  was  a  great 
pigeon  fancier.  My  room  was  near  the  pigeon 
house  and  I  often  heard  the  birds  talking  to- 
gether, particularly  when  they  had  been  off  for  a 
flight.  This  experience  led  to  the  following  ad- 
dition to  my  pigeon  song : 

And  when  they  get  home  you  will  hear  them  say, 
"  '  How  happy  we  were  out  of  doors  to:day — 
Coo-coo !  coo-coo !  coo-coo ! ' ' 

The  children  were  pleased  to  think  that  the 
pigeons  told  each  other  about  their  merry  flights, 
and  were  the  more  ready  to  tell  all  they  had  them- 
selves seen  and  heard  when  out  of  doors. 

Mother,  a  story  told  at  the  right  time  is  a 
looking-glass  for  the  mind." 


XVII. 
NAMING  THE  FINGERS. 

COUNT  your  baby's  rosy  fingers, 

Name  them  for  him,  one  by  one  ; 
Teach  him  how  to  use  them  deftly, 

Ere  the  dimples  are  all  gone  ; 
So,  still  gaining  skill  with  service, 

All  he  does  will  be  well  done. 

Everybody  knows  how  to  count  on  the  fingers, 
and  how  to  hold  the  hand  while  so  doing.  The 
position  of  the  hand  is  also  shown  clearly  in  the 
picture.  It  is  necessary,  however,  to  say  a  few 
words  with  regard  to  the  significance  of  this  little 
play. 

The  traditional  counting  games,  so  well  known 
in  every  nursery,  seemed  to  me  either  to  be  silly 
and  meaningless,  or.  to  say  many  things  I  would 
not  willingly  have  children  hear.  On  the  other 
hand,  some  form  of  counting  game  appeared  to 
me  important  from  several  points  of  view.  These 
points  of  view  I  have  endeavoured  to  make  clear 
in  my  little  songs  and  in  the  mottoes  prefixed  to 
them.  I  have  also  tried  to  preserve  some  echo  of 
the  traditional  words. 

Naming  the  Fingers,  the  first  of  my  series  of 
counting  plays,  directs  the  child's  attention  to 
the  names  of  his  fingers  (index  finger,  middle 

147 


Dein  tftttb  friif)  feine 
©Iteber  fennen, 
ficfir1  e$  fie  beutttd)  aud)  l«e» 
nennen ; 
nod)  mef)r,  letjr1  rrd?t  c« 


2)a§,  wad  e«  etnft  madjt, 
moge  taunen." 


148 


NAMING   THE   FINGERS.  149 

finger,  ring  or  gold  finger,  little  finger),  and  sug- 
gests how  these  names  arose.  I  have  not  thought 
it  necessary  to  give  the  genesis  of  the  word 
thumb,  which  undoubtedly  comes  from  dam,  and 
has  been  applied  to  the  thumb  because  it  seems 
to  form  a  clam  or  barrier.*  Simple  connections 
of  this  kind  between  word  and  thing  should, 
whenever  possible,  be  pointed  out  to  children. 
By  noticing  them  the  mind  escapes  from  super- 
ficiality and  forms  habits  of  comparison  and 
reflection. 

The  artist  has  intentionally  represented  the 
fingers  of  the  left  hand  as  women  and  little  girls, 
those  of  the  right  hand  as  men  and  boys.  Is  he 
hinting  to  us  the  harmony  which  should  exist 
between  the  intellect  and  the  heart  ?  If  I  under- 
stand him  aright,  he  has  striven  in  many  ways 
to  suggest  that  high  and  noble  accord,  that 
cheerful  co-operation  so  necessary  in  family  life 
and  in  the  larger  institutions  of  civil  society  and 
state. 

"  Look  at  the  mother  who  is  carrying  her  lit- 
tle daughter  on  her  arm.  What  is  she  doing  ?" 
"  I  think  she  is  teaching  baby  the  names  of  her 
fingers.  She  is  also  trying  to  teach  her  how  to 
use  them.  She  hopes  that  when  baby  grows  older 
she  will  be  like  the  two  little  girls  who  are  busy 
sewing  and  spinning;  like  the  two  children  in 
the  garden  who  are  planting  flowers ;  like  the 

*  Froebel  is  not  reliable  in  his  etymologies.  Thumb  is  from 
a  root  signifying  to  grow  large  or  increase,  and  so  means  the 
thick  finger. — TRANSLATOR. 


150 


MOTHER  PLAY. 


sturdy  boy  who  is  climbing  a  tree  to  get  thei 
some  plums." 

"  Mother,  may  I  climb  a  tree  ?  " 

"  Yes,  when  you  are  stronger,  and  when  yoi 
have  learned  to  keep  your  balance." 


XVIII. 
THE  GREETING. 

AH,  what  a  wondrous  gift  of  God 

Our  human  bodies  are, 
Still  serving  us  from  day  to  day, 
Both  in  our  work  and  in  our  play, 

Without  a  break  or  jar  ! 

Dear  mother,  when  you  see  your  babe 

Flay  with  his  tiny  hands, 
As  though  just  learning  they  were  his, 
Remember,  here  a  lesson  is 

For  one  who  understands. 

Oh,  help  him,  as  his  body  grows 

To  feel  it  is  God-given, 
So  that  in  all  earth's  happy  ways, 
Through  peaceful  nights  and  busy  days, 

His  life  may  forecast  heaven  ! 

The  manner  of  playing  this  little  game  is  ex- 
plained by  song  and  picture.  Its  inner  meaning 
is  disclosed  by  the  motto.  It  requires,  therefore, 
only  a  few  words  by  way  of  commentary. 

There  is  a  general  and  increasing  lament  over 
the  indelicate  actions  into  which  little  children 
in  their  blindness  are  prone  to  fall ;  and,  alas ! 
the  most  cursory  observation  proves  that  the 
lament  is  only  too  widely  justified.  Experiences 
of  this  nature  wound  the  delicacy,  destroy  the 
modesty,  and  stain  the  purity  of  the  soul.  What 
shall  we  do  to  get  rid  of  this  sneaking  pestilence 

151 


5>aumd)en, 


,,2>a*  £tnbd)en  fetne  (Meber 

f«Mt, 
25'ritm  e«  mtt  ^anb   «nb 


Die  aJhttterlteb1  ^at  fcarauf 

8M)t; 
Senn  fo  be«  ©eifteS  firaft 

frtt>ad)t. 
2Ba«  in  bcm  ^inbe  (W>  bun- 

fct  rcflt, 
SJlit  ©cnu'alt  e«  bte  Gutter 


THE  GREETING.  153 

which  poisons  all  that  is  noblest  in  the  child,  and 
whose  taint  continues  to  infect  his  later  life  ? 

There  is  but  one  means  of  avoiding  wrong 
activity;  but  rejoice,  friends  of  childhood  and 
humanity,  for  it  is  a  sure  preventive.  This  pre- 
ventive is  right  activity — an  activity  as  per- 
sistent as  it  is  fit  and  lawful ;  an  activity  which 
is  not  of  the  body  alone,  nor  yet  alone  of  the 
heart  or  head ;  an  activity  wherein  are  blended 
body  and  soul,  feeling  and  thought. 

To  capacitate  the  child  for  this  pure  and 
complete  activity,  we  must  begin  in  infancy  to 
exercise  and  discipline  hands  and  fingers.  In 
order  to  avoid  vacuity  of  mind  we  must  make 
this  exercise  a  means  of  opening  to  the  soul  the 
inner  life  of  surrounding  objects.  To  point  out 
how  this  double  aim  may  be  accomplished  is  one 
of  the  prime  objects  of  my  nursery  plays. 


12 


D'rum  le^rt  fcte  Sautter  oud^ 
mtt  gtei§ 
fennen  ten  gamilten- 


XIX. 
THE  FAMILY. 

WHEN  baby's  eyes  first  open  to  the  light, 
The  same  dear  household  faces  meet  his  sight, 

Which,  as  months  change  to  years,  he  learns  to  love. 
Oh,  teach  him  that  the  dear  ones  of  his  home, 
Both  now  and  in  the  years  which  are  to  come, 

Beneath  one  roof,  or  wheresoe'er  they  rove, 
Are  one  dear  family  ! — more  closely  bound 
By  love  than  if  by  iron  girded  round. 

If  there  is  one  thing  which  more  than  any 
other  demands  to  be  rightly  apprehended  and 
reverently  cherished  it  is  the  life  of  the  family. 
Family  life!  Family  life!  Who  shall  fathom 
thy  depths  ?  Who  shall  declare  thy  meaning  ? 
How  shall  I  compress  into  the  few  words  I  may 
permit  myself  any  idea  of  thy  sacred  import  ? 

Thou  art  the  sanctuary  of  humanity;  thou 
art  the  temple  wherein  the  flame  of  divinity  is 
kept  alive  and  burning.  Let  me  be  frank  and 
outspoken.  Thou  art  more  than  school  and 
Church !  Thou  art  greater  than  all  the  institu- 
tions which  necessity  has  called  into  being  for 
the  protection  of  life  and  property !  Without 
the  conscience  to  which  thou  givest  birth,  with- 
out the  reflection  which  thou  dost  foster,  the 
school  is  but  a  sterile  egg — an  egg  which  con- 

155 


156  MOTHER  PLAY. 

tains  indeed  nourishing  material  but  lacks  the 
germ  of  life.  Without  thee,  what  are  altar  and 
temple  ?  Thou  must  anoint  thy  members  with 
the  oil  of  consecration.  Then  shall  they  seek 
with  heart  and  mind,  with  love  and  thought,  the 
altar  of  the  one  true  God,  learn  with  reverence  to 
understand  his  revelation,  and  with  strenuous 
will  obey  his  law.  And  once  more,  O  family !  thou 
art  the  security  of  all  institutions,  offensive  and 
defensive,  whose  object  is  to  maintain  law  and 
justice.  For  he  who  is  reared  in  a  family  unhal- 
lowed by  the  presence  of  justice  and  of  law  tends 
to  become  a  scoffer  of  the  one  and  a  rebel  against 
the  other. 

Therefore,  mother,  strive  to  awaken  in  the 
soul  of  your  child,  even  in  infancy,  some  premo- 
nition of  the  nature  of  a  living  whole,  and  partic- 
ularly some  glimpse  into  the  meaning  of  the 
family  whole.  So  doing  you  will  lay  the  founda- 
tions for  true  and  vigorous  and  harmonious  life. 
For  where  wholeness  is  there  is  life,  or  at  least 
the  germ  of  life ;  where  division  is,  even  if  it  be 
only  halfness,  there  is  death,  or  at  least  the  germ 
of  death. 

In  picturing  the  family,  the  relationships  of 
grandfather,  grandmother,  father,  mother,  and 
child  should  be  thrown  into  clear  relief.  In  the 
relationship  of  his  parents  to  his  grandparents 
the  child  beholds,  as  in  a  mirror,  his  own  rela- 
tionship to  father  and  mother.  As  he  stands  to 
his  father  and  mother,  so  they  stand  to  his  grand- 
father and  grandmother.  Conversely,  parents 
behold  a  reflection  of  their  relationship  to  their 


THE   FAMILY.  157 

child  in  the  relationship  of  his  grandparents  to 
themselves.  To  apprehend  the  manifold  aspects 
of  this  double  relationship  is  undoubtedly  of  the 
highest  importance  for  the  inner  life  and  devel- 
opment of  the  child.  Doubtless  our  artist  felt  its 
significance,  for  he  shows  us  repeatedly  in  his 
picture  a  living  whole  of  five  members,  giving  us 
hints  of  it  even  in  the  forms  of  flowers.  In  con- 
nection with  these  flowers  there  seems  to  have 
hovered  before  his  mind  a  fancy  which  it  may  be 
worth  while  to  mention.  Not  only  all  kernel  and 
stone  fruits,  but  all  plants  belonging  to  the  family 
group  they  represent,  accentuate  the  number  five 
in  their  blossoms.  Has  the  pleasant  flavour  of 
these  fruits  anything  to  do  with  this  pervading 
law? 


Scirn 


faq'  td>  CFin 


,,2Bd(i)1  groge  tfunft  fcas  3aMen  tft, 
5lein  !  ber  2Jlenfdj  e«  nicfct  ermift  ; 
SBelcfye  ^unfi,  er  o^net  1*  faiim, 
(£td)  jit  pnben  in  bem  SRaum. 

,  ba«  ric^t'ge  3atilen 
Se^rt  «n«  SRe^teS  roatlftt, 
Sefyrt  un«  @d)Ie^te«  meiben, 
©iett  fo  e^te  Sreuben." 


158 


XX. 

NUMBERING  THE  FINGERS. 

THE  baby  sits  upon  his  mother's  knee, 
Repeating  after  her, 

With  wide-eyed  earnestness 
And  pretty  baby-lisp,  his  "  one — two — three." 

Nor  babe  nor  mother  guess 
That  they  have  touched  the  key 
Which  opens  realms  of  thought  wide  as  eternity ! 

For  without  number,  where  were  form  or  size, 
Or  measure  ?  lacking  which 

All  were  but  chaos  here. 
Or  where  proportion  ?  which  at  length  doth  rise 

Into  the  higher  sphere 
Of  thought,  to  make  it  wise, 
And  fit  to  measure  right  and  wrong  with  calm,  clear  eyes. 

I  lay  the  thumb  in  its  natural  position,  the 
nail  resting  against  the  index  finger.  As  I  name 
and  count  each  successive  finger  I  bend  it  towards 
my  extended  palm.  I  am  careful  not  to  close  the 
fingers  over  the  thumb.  When  all  the  fingers 
have  been  thus  bent  inward  the  position  of  the 
hands  suggests  quiet  and  repose.  The  song  and 
picture  explain  that  each  finger  is  a  sleeping 
child. 

Rest  and  sleep  are  expressed  in  every  detail  of 
the  picture.  The  poppies  are  asleep,  so  also  are 
the  five  little  birds  in  the  tree.  But  slumber  is 
159 


160  MOTHER  PLAY. 

only  life  in  repose.  In  like  manner,  life  and 
meaning  slumber  in  our  counting  game.  With- 
out number,  as  expressed  in  rhythm,  there  could 
be  no  poem;  without  number,  as  expressed  in 
measure  and  accent,  there  could  be  no  music.  A 
single  false  count,  a  single  miscalculation,  may 
impoverish  your  whole  life.  Never  shall  your 
]oss  be  entirely  made  good.  Only  by  painful 
effort  can  it  be  in  part  repaired. 

The  young  child  seems  to  have  some  inkling 
of  the  importance  of  number.  Who  does  not 
know  how  children  love  to  count  ?  Who  does 
not  remember  how  in  his  own  childhood  he  de- 
lighted in  all  forms  of  counting  games  ?  Let  us 
endeavour  to  freight  this  impulse  with  its  true 
meaning  by  directing  attention  to  the  manifold 
applications  of  number,  and  especially  to  the  re- 
lationships between  number  and  form,  as  mani- 
fested in  the  objects  of  nature. 


XXI. 

THE    FINGER  PIANO. 

ONE — two — three — four — five,  you  sing; 
Baby  listens,  as  you  swing 
Back  and  forth  with  changing  numbers, 
Till  at  last  the  music  slumbers 
With  a  folded  wing. 

Five — four — three — two — as  each  tone 
Marks  the  rhythm — three — two — one  ; 
Baby  eyes  your  moving  fingers 
With  an  eager  look  that  lingers 
When  the  song  is  done. 

Forji_something  inhis  heart 
Answers  to  y,OM*lj^mpt(LaA' 
And,  like  silent  bells  set  ringing, 
Makes  the  little  song  you're  singing 
Seem  of  him  a  part. 

All  the  music  which  we  hear. 
Listening  with  the  outward  ear, 

€"'ould  be  powerless  to  win  us, 
there  lived  not  deep  within  us 
Its  innate  idea. 

All  the  universe  seems  set 
To  a  measure,  when  we  get 
Near  enough  to  hear  the  beating 
Of  its  heart,  and,  by  repeating, 
Learn  its  alphabet. 

Then  the  soul  is  often  stirred 
With  some  harmony  unheard 
By  the  ear— all  rhythmic  motion, 
Blended  hues  or  fair  proportion, 
Justify  this  word. 
161 


w2Baa  ba«  ttnb  mit  Slu^n  flefet, 
greut  ju  borett  fca«  ©er.tittf). 
33telee  tod?  jum  SWenf^en  fprt^t, 


9ftu§t  bie§  friifi  bem  tftnbc&ett  le^ren, 
SSJittfi  2)u  2efcen3freub1  tfcm  meliren.' 


THE  FINGER  PIANO.  163 

In  all  Nature  is  no  schism — 
When  we  have  received  this  chrism, 
Flower  bells  chime  for  sunny  weather, 
And  the  colours  sing  together 
In  the  trembling  prism. 


The  fingers  of  the  left  hand  represent  the  keys 
of  a  piano.  They  are  slightly  bent  at  the  middle 
joint,  and  thus  gain  a  certain  elasticity.  The 
fingers  of  the  right  hand  press  upon  them  as  in 
the  act  of  playing  on  the  piano. 

In  the  commentary  to  the  preceding  song  I 
alluded  to  the  relationship  between  number  and 
music.  Through  playing  the  finger  piano  the 
child  wins  from  his  practical  experience  some 
remote  idea  of  the  relationship  of  number  not 
only  to  melody  and  time,  but  also  to  that  organ- 
isation of  movement  which  we  call  measure. 

Have  you  ever  reflected  upon  the  important 
bearings  of  measure,  rhythm,  and  proportion 
upon  man's  daily  life  ?  He  who  in  all  things 
obeys  the  law  of  measure  is  a  man  of  tact.  Do 
you  wish  to  develop  this  fine  tact  in  your  child  ? 
Do  you  desire  that  his  life  shall  be  a  musical  and 
harmonious  one  ?  If  so,  cultivate  his  love  of  song 
and  his  ability  to  sing. 

A  teacher  of  my  acquaintance  complains  that, 
as  compared  with  the  Italians,  we  Germans  lack 
musical,  ear  and  have  untrained  vocal  organs. 
She  attributes  these  defects  to  the  fact  that  we 
give  no  adequate  training  in  singing  either  to 
our  children  or  our  youth.  Through  this  defect 
in  our  education  we  practically  close  the  gates  of 
the  glad  free  world  of  song. 


MOTHER  PLAY. 

Mother,  retrieve  this  error  in  the  education  of 
your  dear  child.  Then,  by  the  influence  which 
from  song  radiates  upon  his  whole  life,  you  will 
perceive  with  what  a  jewel  you  have  enriched 
him.  Moreover,  in  cultivating  your  child's  power 
of  song  you  will  yourself  learn  to  sing,  or  at  the 
very  least  to  enjoy  and  appreciate  singing. 

Higher  and  more  important  than  the  cultiva- 
tion of  man's  outer  ear  is  the  culture  of  that 
inner  sense  of  harmony  whereby  the  soul  learns 
to  perceive  sweet  accord  in  soundless  things,  and 
to  discern  within  itself  harmonies  and  discords. 
The  importance  of  wakening  the  inner  ear  to  this 
music  of  the  soul  can  scarcely  be  exaggerated. 
Learning  to  hear  it  within,  the  child  will  strive  to 
give  it  outer  form  and  expression ;  and  even  if  in 
such  effort  he  is  only  partially  successful,  he  will 
gain  thereby  the  power  to  appreciate  the  more 
successful  effort  of  others.  Thus  enriching  his 
own  life  by  the  life  of  others,  he  solves  the  prob- 
lem of  development.  How  else  were  it  possible 
within  the  quickly  fleeting  hours  of  mortal  life 
to  develop  our  being  in  all  directions,  to  fathom 
its  depths,  scale  its  heights,  measure  its  bound- 
aries ?  What  we  are,  what  we  would  be,  we 
must  learn  to  recognise  in  the  mirror  of  all  other 
lives.  By  the  effort  of  each  and  the  recognition 
of  all  the  divine  man  is  revealed  in  humanity. 

And  now  may  I  say  just  a  word  about  the 
charming  picture  which  illustrates  this  play  ? 
Mother,  try  to  make  your  child  feel  its  music. 
The  whole  picture  is  melody.  Everything  in  it 
is  singing,  or  listening  to  song.  The  swaying 


THE  FINGER   PIANO.  1G5 

wheat  sings.  The  lark  in  its  midst  listens.  The 
fragrance  of  the  convolvulus  is  sweet  music  to 
the  bees,  and  they  accompany  it  with  their  whir- 
ring wings.  The  many-coloured  bird  perched 
in  the  bushy  tree  above  the  head  of  the  musician 
has  flown  near  the  head  of  the  sound-stream 
in  order  that  not  one  of  its  waves  may  escape 
him.  The  canary  in  the  cage  flutters  and  twit- 
ters, as  if  trying  to  say,  "  Recognise  in  least  and 
smallest  things  the  great  Creator's  might."  How 
sweetly  yonder  little  brother  and  sister  are  play- 
ing !  And  how  absorbed  they  are  in  the  music 
they  are  making !  This  is  what  I  call  harmony 
of  life.  The  artist  could  not  have  pictured  it 
more  beautifully.  The  little  birds  above  the 
boy's  head  have  flown  as  near  as  possible  so  that 
they  may  hear  well.  The  lark,  that  master  of 
song,  cannot  refrain  from  joining  in  the  music  and 
making  its  rhythm  visible  in  the  movement  of  his 
wings.  Even  the  dull-eared  beetle  forsakes  the 
leaf  he  has  been  nibbling  in  order  to  get  nearer 
to  the  music.  The  colours  say,  "  We,  too,  must 
take  part  in  the  symphony,"  and  their  glowing 
and  accordant  hues  make  music  for  the  eye.  The 
heads  of  wheat  paint  themselves  with  gold.  The 
lark  takes  on  the  colour  of  the  earth,  in  order  that 
earth's  sheltering  furrows  may  protect  her  from 
capture.  The  faithful  cornflower  reflects  the 
azure  sky.  The  home-loving  bee  dons  a  suit  of 
workaday  brown.  Pink  are  the  cheeks  of  the 
children,  golden  brown  the  boy's  curling  locks, 
while  the  flaxen  hair  of  the  little  girl  makes  a 
fair  setting  for  her  bright  blue  eyes.  Round 


166  MOTHER  PLAY. 

them  all  the  atmosphere  throws  its  veil  of  mist} 
blue.  Through  it  streams  the  golden  sunlight, 
that  the  green  of  hope  may  clothe  the  children  of 
earth.  The  beetle  stays  his  droning  flight,  and 
lo !  upon  his  broad  back  the  colours  meet  as  upon 
a  painter's  palette. 


XXII. 
HAPPY  BROTHERS  AND  SISTERS. 

DEAR  mother,  when  the  busy  day  is  done, 
And  sleeping  lies  each  tired  little  one, 
Then  fold  your  own  hands  on  a  heart  at  rest, 
And  sleep  with  them  upon  God's  loving  breast. 

The  love  that  gave  you  such  a  sacred  charge 
Is  passing  tender  and  exceeding  large  ! 
Oh,  trust  it  utterly,  and  it  will  pour 
Into  each  crevice  of  your  life  its  store. 

Then  things  unworthy  shall  no  more  find  room, 
And  like  a  sweet  contagion  in  your  home 
Your  life  shall  be.    A  life  that's  hid  in  God 
Tells  its  great  secret  without  spoken  word. 

The  gesture  which,  accompanies  this  song  is 
perfectly  simple.  It  is  shown  clearly  in  the 
drawing.  I  need  only  mention  that,  in  conform- 
ity with  the  idea  and  evolution  of  the  song,  the 
fingers  should  be  very  slowly  intertwined. 

No  phase  of  the  process  of  nurture  is  more 
tender,  more  important,  and  more  difficult  than 
the  nurture  of  that  hidden  life  of  the  heart  and 
the  prescient  imagination  out  of  which  proceeds 
all  that  is  highest  and  holiest  in  individual  man 
and  in  humanity,  and  whose  perfect  blossom  is  a 
soul  at  one  with  God  in  thought,  word,  and  deed. 

We  have  already  asked  ourselves  when  and 
how  this  inner  life  begins.  It  is  like  the  seed 
167 


9Benn  1$  $mbd)en  fdjtafet  em 
llnt>   faltet   fetne   $dnbd)en 
flein. 


gutter,  fityl  12  bann  ttef,  ba§  Einct 

wa 
903enn    au      Slfle«  ftylaf*   in  bunflcr 


©laute,  ba§  burd)  ©itte«,  JDO^  Du  benffl, 
2)u  jitm  ©itten  frii^-Dein  $:nb  fd)cn 

lenfft  ; 
Unb  nt$t*  Seff-'re*  lannft  S)u  iftm  {a 

geben, 

madden  fiiljfett,  ba    e«  let)'  fnt 

etrt^aen  2eben." 


168 


HAPPY  BROTHERS  AND  SISTERS.  169 

which,  germinates  in  darkness,  and  which  is 
growing  long  before  its  growth  is  outwardly  vis- 
ible. It  is  like  the  stars  which  astronomers  tell 
us  are  shining  long  before  their  beams  fall  upon 
our  eyes. 

We  cannot  catch  the  first  faint  breaths  of 
spiritual  life,  and  the  moment  when  the  tendency 
towards  God  is  born  passes  silent  and  unnoticed. 
To  nurture  this  tendency  prematurely  is  like 
exposing  a  seed  too  early  to  nourishing  mois- 
ture and  developing  light.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  spiritual  nurture  is  tardy  or  feeble,  the  re- 
sult must  likewise  be  a  dwarfed  or  abortive 
growth. 

What,  then,  shall  we  do  ?  Let  me  answer 
this  question  by  asking  another :  How  does  the 
life  of  the  spirit  make  itself  outwardly  visible  ? 
With  what  gesture  do  we  associate  its  birth  and 
development  ?  What  act  seems  to  us  to  be  its 
physical  analogue  ?  In  a  word,  do  we  not,  each 
and  all  of  us,  connect  devout  feeling  with  clasped 
or  folded  hands  ? 

And  yet,  wThat  possible  correspondence  can 
there  be  between  folded  hands  and  the  inner 
life  ?  Is  not  this  gesture  merely  accidental  or 
conventional  ?  How  can  that  which  is  accidental 
or  conventional  have  any  necessary  connection 
with  man's  inner  life  ? 

Between  the  inner  life  and  its  outward  ex- 
pression the  connection  must  be  a  necessary  one, 
and  if  this  be  so  we  should  be  able  to  discover 
some  common  characteristic.  What,  then,  is  the 
quality  common  to  the  devout  mind  and  the 
13 


170  MOTHER  PLAY. 

folded  hands  ?  I  answer,  "  It  is  eollectedness, 
the  gathering  together  of  the  forces  of  life." 
The  folding  of  the  hands  is  therefore  no  acci- 
dental phenomenon.  It  is  the  outward  and  visi- 
ble sign  of  an  inward  collectedness,  and,  as  such, 
is  rooted  in  the  depths  of  the  universal  heart. 
Much  might  be  said  on  this  subject  were  it  per- 
missible for  me  to  discuss  it  in  more  detail.  But 
enough ! 

Recognising  the  correspondence  between  the 
two  orders  of  life,  we  may  mark  the  moment 
when  the  soul  begins  to  collect  her  force  and 
thus  win  a  point  of  departure  for  the  culture  of 
spiritual  life.  For  who  has  not  noticed  that  at  a 
certain  period  of  development  little  children  love 
to  fold  their  hands,  and  that  when  they  do  this 
of  themselves  their  attitude  and  expression  prove 
that  out  of  disjointed  fragments  of  feeling, 
thought,  and  will,  they  have  gathered  themselves 
together  in  a  living  unity.  We  need  have  no 
fear  that  a  tender  nurture  of  this  collectedness 
will  prove  injurious,  for  without  collectedness  the 
soul  can  neither  strengthen  nor  unfold  her  powers. 

In  the  conviction  I  have  expressed  is  rooted 
the  song  we  are  now  considering.  The  motto 
accompanying  it  points  out  that  the  mother  must 
possess  in  herself  the  inner  unity  of  life  which  she 
would  cherish  in  her  child. 

In  calling  the  fingers  children,  and  not  only 
children,  but  brothers  and  sisters,  we  simply 
take  a  forward  step  upon  an  already  broken 
path.  We  should  also  by  this  time  be  familiar 
with  the  thought  that  children  love  to  see  their 


HAPPY  BROTHERS  AND  SISTERS. 


own  inner  life  mirrored  in  a  life  which,  is  alien 
to  them.  To  behold  these  reflections  is  a  help 
always,  a  hindrance  never,  to  the  growth  of  the 
soul. 

Therefore,  when  your  darling  shows  you  that 
he  has  reached  the  requisite  plane  of  develop- 
ment, let  him  look  quietly  at  the  sweet  faces  of 
the  children  in  this  picture  and  at  their  devout 
and  gentle  mother. 


Sinter  ouf 
&em  llntrmc. 

etnjdn  £>u  tntt  £>et« 
nem  $inb  gefotelet, 
SSerbinb1  ee  audj  ju  eincm 
©anjen  fd>on ; 
o^l  freut  e«  un8,  tcenn  ^ 
^tnb  aQeine  fptelet, 

wenn  »tr  {m 
©tfeluerein  ee  fe^n. 

einjeln  SBIumdjen  wot)I 
ba«  ^inb  bealiidet, 

mefcr  ber  bunte  SBIu* 
tnenlranj  entjiicfet. 


XXIII. 

THE  CHILDREN  ON  THE  TOWER. 

A  CHILD  at  play  we  think  a  pretty  sight ; 
A  band  of  playmates  gives  us  more  delight. 
The  child  may  love  a  blossom,  red  or  white, 
But  more  a  wreath  in  which  all  hues  unite. 

And  so,  dear  mother,  weave  these  little  plays 
Which  have  beguiled  your  baby's  happy  days. 
Many  in  one  he  sees  ;  and  through  the  maze 
Of  his  young  mind  a  great  truth  sends  its  rays. 

That  this  play  is  a  grouping  together  of  all 
the  games  which  precede  it  is  suggested  in  the 
motto.  In  the  beginning  of  the  game  the  hands 
are  held  apart ;  at  the  words,  "  A- visiting  now 
they  come/'  they  are  clapped  together.  The  song 
itself,  taken  in  connection  with  those  which  pre- 
cede it,  will  suggest  all  other  requisite  positions 
and  gestures. 

The  position  of  the  hands  and  fingers,  repre- 
senting the  grandmothers  going  into  the  church, 
and  the  gesture  expressive  of  thanks,  may  both 
be  seen  in  the  illustration  which  accompanies 
this  song.  The  gesture  of  prayer  is  well  known. 
Nevertheless,  I  have  thought  it  well  to  picture  it 
in  the  illustration  to  the  song  of  "  Happy  Broth- 
ers and  Sisters." 

The  four  divisions  of  the  picture  which  illus- 
trates the  play  now  under  consideration  interpret 
173  />0&: 

f  OF  THE 

lTT'NrTVR-Rc<Trr  Iff} 


MOTHER  PLAY. 

themselves,  and  you  will  have  no  difficulty  in 
explaining  them  to  your  questioning  child.  The 
group  in  the  lower  left-hand  picture  shows  the 
visiting  fingers.  Each  group  of  children  is  led 
by  a  grandmother.  The  lower  right-hand  pic- 
ture shows  the  children  chatting  together  about 
the  flower  basket,  the  bird's  nest,  the  egg,  the 
pigeon  house,  the  ball.  The  grandmothers  sit- 
ting quietly  on  a  balcony  rejoice  in  the  happy 
play  of  the  children.  In  the  third  picture  the 
two  grandmothers  are  going  to  church,  and  the 
children  are  climbing  or  preparing  to  climb  the 
tower.  The  fourth  picture  shows  the  fallen 
tower,  while  from  the  church  emerge  unharmed 
and  grateful  the  grandmothers  and  all  the  little 
children. 

Studying  this  play  and  picture  you  will  learn 
much  which  will  be  helpful  to  you  in  your 
efforts  to  cherish  the  inner  life  of  your  child. 
Such  suggestions,  however,  spring  so  easily  and 
naturally  from  the  play  itself,  and  from  a  con- 
sideration of  its  relationship  to  all  preceding 
plays,  that  further  comments  would  merely  cramp 
and  fetter  you. 


NOTE.  — With  the  Children  on  the  Tower  ends  what 
may  be  called  Part  I  of  the  Mother  Play.  It  is  a  review 
game  wherein  preceding  plays  are  brought  together,  and 
the  heart  of  the  child  is  stirred  with  some  faint  premo- 
nition of  his  own  life  as  a  process  of  becoming.  The 
games  which  follow  it  respond  to  an  ever-increasing 
consciousness  of  self  and  an  ever-deepening  sense  of 
social  relationship. 

Each  of  these  main  divisions  of  the  Mother  Play  is 
again  divided  into  two  parts.  In  the  first  division  the 
break  is  marked  by  the  game  of  The  Target ;  in  the  sec- 
ond, by  the  game  of  The  Knights  and  the  Good  Child. 
For  an  explanation  of  the  inner  significance  of  these 
transitions,  see  my  book  on  Symbolic  Education,  pages 
157-163. 

175 


$a$  ftinb  itnb  brr 

Somm,  JHnfcd&en,  fd)au  ben  TOonb 
2)erbort  am  ^tmmel  lucent. 
,,flomm,  Sftonb,  fomm  to*  oe 

fd)»tnb 

$terfcer  ?um  Iteben  ^inb  ! " 
,2Bof)I  fdm1 1^  ju  Sir  gern, 
ed)  »o!)n'  tcf)  gar  jit  fern, 
ait«  bent  btaiten  Jpau« 
ben  ntcfyt  ^erau^. 
SBetl  id)  fann  fommen  ntd^t 
©enb1  ic^  metn  $efle«  Stdjt ; 
Urn  1e  ^tnfcd)ett  ^u  erfreun, 
@*td '  id)  bem  mtlten  @d)ein ; 
Unb  Inn  id)  and)  nid)t  nal), 
Sin  id)  in  fiteb'  bod)  ba. 
<Sei,  tinbd)en,  nur  recbt  fromnt, 
Son  3eit  p  Beit  id)  fomm, 
Unb  freunbltd)  id)  bann  fd)idfe 
I)tr  meine  SiebeSblicfe ; 
SBir  griifen  itn«  bann  betbe, 
OJemetnfam  un«  $ur  ^reube." 
,,Seb^  ttoftl,  leb'  njobl !  mein  2ftott' 
SWtt  Stebe,  fiiebe  lol)nt." 


176 


XXIV. 

THE  CHILD  AND  THE  MOON. 

This  song  requires  no  interpretation.  What 
mother  is  ignorant  of  the  attraction  of  the  moon 
for  the  child  ?  What  mother  does  not  know 
that  this  attraction  is  so  great  that  it  often  ren- 
ders him  insensible  to  pain  ? 

As  the  child  is  drawn  by  the  moon,  so  in 
maturer  years  our  souls  are  drawn  by  spiritual 
light.  As  the  sight  of  the  moon  stills  the  child's 
pain,  so  the  vision  of  the  heavenly  light  makes 
man  oblivious  of  all  earthly  ills. 

This  little  song  is  intended  simply  to  illustrate 
to  you  how  you  may  make  the  moon's  attraction 
a  point  of  departure  for  the  development  of  that 
spiritual  attraction  of  which  it  is  but  the  van- 
ishing symbol. 

177 


-is^,--   I     )      ' 


$cr  Heine  Stnabe  unfc  bn 
SBfronb. 

,,2Barwm  f^einen  X)tnge,  in  to 

SRaume  fern, 
Slnfancjg  rcoM  tern  Iletnen  ^t 

fo  innici  nafi  ? — 
SBarum    njiinfdu,    erfefint     t 

^tetne  rocl;!  fo  gern, 
2)a§  ba«  gerne  juf  Seretn^tt 

ware  fca  ? 
2Ba$  mag,  Sautter,  un«  toobl  bl 

com  5ttnbe  If  bren  ? — 
2>a§  teir  fetn  (Jntf alien   fcrfce 

unb  nt*t  flijren. 
2)fl§,  d>'  ftd)  tie  Xtn^e  tn  to 

SRaitme  con  tbm  totnten, 

«  tie  ein'gunf?  snjtfc^en   j 

unt  t^nen  moge  finten." 


173 


XXV. 

THE  LITTLE  BOY  AND  THE   MOON. 

WHY  does  the  white  moon,  floating  far 

In  distant  realms  of  blue, 
And  shedding  thence  its  lustre  mild, 
Seem  so  much  nearer  to  your  child 

Than  e'er  it  seems  to  you  ? 

It  is  not  that  he  sees  amiss, 

Or  that  your  eyes  are  dim  : 
Herein  a  higher  truth  is  taught — 
Make  it  a  part  of  your  own  thought, 

Then  give  it  back  to  him  ! 

He  stretches  now  a  baby  hand 

To  grasp  the  heavenly  light. 
Oh,  may  no  barrier  ever  rise 
To  make  him  with  the  years  less  wise, 

Or  dim  his  longing  sight ! 

Then  hasten  not  to  break  the  spell 

Which  holds  him  in  sweet  thrall ; 
Translate  it  rather,  that  it  seem 
In  years  to  come  no  childish  dream 

To  be  at  one  with  all ! 

This  song  was  suggested  by  an  incident  from 
real  life.  The  motto  explains  the  symbolic  im- 
port of  a  phenomenon  which  is  recurrent  in  child, 
and  especially  in  boy,  life.  We  too  often  ignore 
the  child's  wonder  at  the  moon  and  the  starry 
heavens.  Hence  it  collapses  into  formless  and 
empty  astonishment.  We  should  recognise  in 

179 


180  MOTHER  PLAY. 

such  wonder  a  question  asked  by  the  soul, 
and  should  so  answer  it  as  to  prepare  the  child 
for  a  true  apperception  of  the  heavenly  bodies. 
Thus  it  is  easy  to  direct  the  attention  of  even 
very  young  children  to  the  way  in  which  the 
moon  seems  to  swim  through  the  clouds,  and  to 
her  often  clearly  perceptible  spherical  form. 

The  wonder  of  the  soul  in  presence  of  the 
heavenly  lights  also  opens  for  us  a  path  over 
which  we  may  guide  the  child  towards  some 
inner  apprehension  of  the  being  of  their  Creator. 
In  an  age  when  all  detached  and  outward  phe- 
nomena are  instinctively  grasped  in  identity  with 
an  inner  and  unifying  life,  it  is  easy  to  direct  im- 
agination from  the  heavens  to  Him  whose  glory 
they  declare.  A  hint  as  to  the  method  of  doing 
this  will,  however,  be  given  in  our  next  song. 

Confronted  by  objects  whose  nature  he  is  not 
able  to  apprehend,  the  child  accepts  with  simple 
faith  the  explanations  of  his  elders.  Whether 
such  explanations  be  true  or  false  he  believes 
them  with  equal  ease,  and  this  is  especially  the 
case  when  they  are  connected  with  and  seemingly 
verified  by  his  own  perceptions.  Hence,  by  false 
explanations  the  child  may  be  led  to  conceive  the 
moon  as  a  man  and  the  stars  as  gold  pins  or 
burning  lamps.  On  the  other  hand,  by  means  of 
true  though  necessarily  partial  explanations,  he 
may  recognise  in  the  former  a  beautiful,  shining, 
swimming  ball,  and  in  the  latter  great  blazing 
suns  which  look  so  tiny  only  because  they  are  so 
far  off. 

The  one  way  of  looking  at  moon  and  stars 


* 


THE  LITTLE   BOY  AND   THE  MOON.         181 

spite  its  apparent  life  is  barren  and  lifeless ;  the 
other  bears  within  it  a  seed  of  thought  which 
may  later  develop  into  rational  insight.  Why 
should  we  withhold  from  the  child  the  living  and 
life-giving  explanation  and  weigh  him  down 
with  a  dead  one  ?  Truth  is  harmful  never ;  error 
is  harmful  always,  even  though  it  may  some- 
times lead  to  the  truth. 


2Ba$  audj  nitr  immer  ba« 
^infc($en  iimgibt, 


XXVI. 

THE  LITTLE  MAIDEN  AND  THE  STARS. 

THE  young  child  loves  in  phantasy  to  see 
Human  relationships  in  star  or  tree, 
Or  anything  that  may  about  him  be. 

Nature  and  life  around  him  seem  a  glass, 

To  mirror  that  which  fills  his  heart.     Alas, 

That  with  the  years  the  childish  dream  should  pass ! 

But  break  it  not,  until  its  hidden  thought 
Into  more  lasting  meaning  has  been  caught. 
Once  gone,  with  pain  and  tears  it  must  be  bought. 

All  that  is  noble  in  your  child  is  stirred, 
And  every  energy  to  action  spurred 
By  Nature's  silent,  oft-repeated  word. 

He  sees  the  moon  glide  on  her  silver  way ; 
He  sees  the  stars  return  with  closing  day  ; 
He  sees  each  plant  some  hidden  law  obey. 

No  wonder  that  he  thinks  an  inner  spring 
Of  love  creative  lives  in  everything, 
And  bids  it  to  his  life  an  offering  bring. 

And  as  the  bright  unbroken  chain  returns 

In  beauty  on  itself,  his  spirit  yearns 

Towards  that  great  love  which  dimly  he  discerns. 

A  child's  conceit?     Nay,  larger  truth  indeed, 
Which  shall  sustain  him  in  his  later  need — 
A  faith  too  deep  for  any  written  creed. 

Like  its  predecessor,  this  song  was  suggested 
by  an  actual  occurrence.  Two  bright  planets 
were  in  near  conjunction.  A  little  two-year- 

183 


184  MOTHER  PLAY. 

old  girl,  looking  at  them,  exclaimed  with,  joy, 
"  Father-and-mother  stars ! " 

We  all  know  the  tendency  of  childhood  to  im- 
pute to  inanimate  objects  human  life  and  human 
relationships.  The  incident  just  recorded  is, 
however,  a  striking  illustration  of  this  tendency, 
for  no  one  knew  how  the  little  girl  had  fallen 
upon  the  comparison  and  connection  of  ideas 
which  her  cry  implied. 

Thus  much  is  sure :  the  inner  life  of  child- 
hood may  be  deepened  and  strengthened  by 
cherishing  the  impulse  to  impute  personal  life 
to  inanimate  objects.  Loyally  obeying  the  hint 
thrown  out  by  the  soul,  we  may  aid  its  struggle 
towards  the  insight  that  it  is  one  spirit  which 
lives  in  all  and  works  through  all. 


XXVII. 

THE  LIGHT-BIRD. 

WE  most  do  own  what  we  own  not, 

But  which  is  free  to  all. 
The  sunset  light  upon  the  sea, 
A  passing  strain  of  melody, 

Are  ours  beyond  recall. 

The  soul  lias  many  capacities,  yet  it  is  a  single 
and  indivisible  unit.  The  child's  first  knowledge 
is  a  knowledge  of  his  own  being  as  an  undiff eren- 
tiated  totality.  It  is  of  the  utmost  importance  to 
his  inner  and  outer  development — and,  indeed,  to 
the  whole  course  of  his  life — that  his  feeling  of 
the  unity  of  his  being  should  be  a  strong  and 
living  one  before  he  descends  into  the  conscious- 
ness and  culture  of  specific  powers.  The  mani- 
festations of  infancy  prove  beyond  dispute  that 
the  order  of  development  is  from  the  universal 
to  the  particular,  and  that  all  distinctions  in 
thought  and  feeling  arise  through  a  process  of 
specification. 

How  different  are  the  motor  activities  from 
the  activities  of  sense,  yet  how  each  reacts  upon 
the  other !  Each  one  of  our  little  plays  has  shown 
us  either  the  recoil  of  movement  upon  sensation 
or  the  recoil  of  sensation  upon  movement.  Even 
our  very  simple  Play  with  the  Limbs  incited  to 
14  185 


fiichtwoqlein  an  ber  28anb. 


,,1>ie  2ttutter  jitbem  tfinbe  ftnityi 
,,9Mn  liebed  £inb,  sergif  e? 

,  wa«  Dit  fiefefi, 
Slucfy  glei*^  ju  greifen 


Sieb  SBSgnein  an  ber  SQanb, 
'         $aft  mir  bo$  etnmaJ  fianb  ! 
£a§  25t$  bo$  »on  mir  gretfen ! 
3Wu§t  md)t  umber  fo  f^weifen ! 
bcr  2Danb, 
§alt  mir  bo$  einmal  ftanb ! " 


THE  LIGHT-BIRD.  187 

activity  the  sense  of  sight,  while  conversely  we 
learned  from  the  song  of  The  Boy  and  the  Moon 
how  the  sensation  of  sight  reacts  upon  the  ac- 
tivity of  body  and  limbs. 

Not  only  is  there  a  reaction  between  motor 
activity  and  the  energy  of  sense,  but  the  activity 
of  one  sense  excites  the  activity  of  the  other 
senses.  The  reaction  of  hearing  upon  sight  will 
be  evident  to  any  one  who  will  notice  how  much 
more  strongly  visible  things  appeal  to  the  child 
when  interpreted  by  word  and  tone.  Hence  the 
instinctive  mother  always  links  object  and  word, 
and  clothes  the  word  with  a  garment  of  song. 
On  the  other  hand,  vision  reacts  upon  and  incites 
to  activity  the  organ  of  hearing.  The  original 
implicit  unity  of  the  different  senses  is  further 
shown  by  the  fact  that  what  the  baby  sees  and 
feols  he  also  tries  to  taste,  and  everything  his 
hands  can  grasp  is  promptly  carried  to  his 
mouth. 

Very  early  in  the  development  of  the  child, 
however,  the  sense  of  sight  asserts  its  supremacy. 
Sight  is  the  regnant  sense.  It  tests  and  orders 
the  results  of  all  the  other  senses.  In  the  sense 
of  sight  the  nature  of  man  as  a  seer  and  discerner 
is  symbolically  declared.  Hence  you  say  to  your 
child,  "  Through  your  dear  eyes,  my  darling,  I  can 
look  into  your  soul."  Hence  also  we  demand  of 
children  that  they  shall  use  their  eyes  aright. 
We  bid  them  "look  before  and  around  them." 
We  chide  them  for  seeing  and  hearing  nothing. 
Rising  to  higher  analogies,  we  speak  of  the 
"healthy  eye/7  and  of  the  single  eye  through 


188  MOTHER  PLAY. 

which  the  whole  body  is  full  of  light.  Ponder 
even  these  few  examples  of  the  connection  be- 
tween physical  and  spiritual  seeing,  and  you  will 
begin  to  realise  that  a  wise  culture  of  the  sense 
of  sight  is  of  paramount  importance  to  the  outer 
and  inner  welfare  of  your  child ;  that  it  is  indeed 
the  axis  about  which  revolve  the  energies  of 
mind — the  fountain  source  of  spiritual  experience, 
the  very  nucleus  of  the  embryonic  life  of  the 
soul. 

With  the  recognition  of  this  truth,  dear 
mother,  we  penetrate  to  the  heart  of  our  com- 
mon endeavour ;  we  find  the  core  of  our  in- 
most thought ;  we  touch  the  ultimate  presuppo- 
sition of  all  the  songs  and  plays  in  this  little 
book.  We  desire  for  the  child  a  serene  and  un- 
impeded development.  Our  ideal  demands,  on 
the  one  hand,  that  he  shall  exert  with  tranquil 
power  all  the  specific  energies  of  his  soul,  and,  on 
the  other,  that  he  shall  preserve  intact  his  central 
consciousness  of  the  unity  of  his  selfhood.  We 
can  be  satisfied  neither  with  thought  divorced 
from  feeling,  nor  with  any  feelings  save  such  as 
imply  an  inner  though  perchance  unconscious 
collectedness  of  thought.  Our  heart's  desire  for 
the  child  is,  that  in  the  deepest  and  most  inclu- 
sive sense  of  the  word  he  may  become  a  seeing 
being.  We  know  that  such  seeing  does  not  ex- 
clude, but  include,  feeling  ;  for  seeing  and  feeling 
are  related  to  each  other,  as  light  and  heat.  God 
is  at  once  light  and  love ;  or,  rather,  he  is  love, 
because  he  is  light,  and  light  because  he  is  love. 
Vision  of  the  whole  implies  love  for  the  whole, 


THE  LIGHT-BIRD.  189 

and  this  loving  omniscience,  or  omniscient  love, 
is  our  highest  definition  of  the  eternal  and  over- 
ruling life  of  God. 

Let  us  therefore  follow  with  confidence  the 
path  we  have  been  treading ;  but  let  our  future 
steps  be  taken 'with  clearer  eyes,  with  deeper  in- 
sight, with  fuller  consecration  of  soul ;  for  we 
know  now  that  over  this  same  path  we  may 
travel  safely  through  the  whole  wide  realm  of 
child  culture.  We  are  sure  that  we  have  learned 
how  to  foster  the  creative  impulse,  and  how  to 
fortify  and  satisfy  all  the  inmost  cravings  of  the 
soul. 

And  now  to  our  little  play,  with  regard  to 
which  I  must  not  omit  to  say  that  I  have  found 
it  in  all  grades  of  social  life.  Moreover,  it  grew 
up  with  and  in  me,  for  as  a  small  child  I  saw  it 
played  by  older  members  of  my  family,  and  as  I 
grew  into  boyhood  I  myself  played  it  to  the 
delight  of  my  younger  brothers  and  sisters. 

From  the  illuminated  surface  of  a  mirror  we 
throw  upon  a  shaded  wall  a  flash  of  light.  The 
same  effect  may  be  produced  by  using,  instead  of 
a  mirror,  the  surface  of  water  in  a  glass  or  cup. 

The  deeper  import  of  The  Light-Bird  is  hinted 
in  the  song  and  motto.  Beware,  however,  of  the 
thought  that  the  import  thus  suggested  is  the 
only  one  contained  in  the  play.  Not  only  The 
Light-Bird  but  all  of  the  plays  which  precede  and 
follow  it  have  many  meanings.  Neither  must 
it  be  supposed  that  the  meaning  suggested  by 
me  is,  if  not  the  sole,  at  least  the  highest  one. 
My  songs,  mottoes,  and  commentaries  are  offered 


190  MOTHER  PLAY. 

simply  with  the  hope  that  they  may  aid  you  to 
recognise  and  hold  fast  some  part  of  what  you 
yourself  feel  while  playing  these  games,  and  to 
suggest  to  you  how  you  may  waken  correspond- 
ing feelings  in  your  child. 

"  Mother,  what  has  the  boy  in  his  hand  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  little  looking-glass/' 

"  What  does  he  want  with  it  ?  " 

"  He  wants  the  sun  to  shine  on  it." 

"But  why  ?" 

"  Because  when  the  sun  shines  on  the  looking- 
glass  it  will  make  a  bright  spot  on  the  wall,  and 
this  will  please  his  little  brother." 

"  Oh,  yes !  I  see  the  bright  spot.  It  looks  like 
a  little  bird." 

"  The  little  brother  thinks,  as  you  do,  that  it 
looks  like  a  little  bird.  I  do  believe  he  is  trying 
to  catch  it." 

"  Mother,  give  me  a  looking-glass ;  I  want  to 
make  a  light-bird." 

"Here  is  a' cup  of  water — it  will  do  just  as 
well ;  but  be  careful  not  to  break  it." 

"  Mother,  see,  I  can  make  a  bird ! " 

"Why  should  you  not  ?" 

"  Now,  mother,  will  you  make  the  bird  ? 
want  to  catch  it." 

"  Here  it  is ;  catch  it,  if  you  can." 

"Oh,  mother!  the  pretty  light-bird  won't  1< 
itself  be  caught.  When  I  think  I  have  it  undt 
my  hand,  it  shines  on  top  of  it." 

"Yes,  the  light-bird  is  just  ' shine/  Y< 
can't  catch  it.  You  must  not  expect  to  cat 
everything." 


'^nx  ^v 

OF  THE 


THE  LIGHT-W  '  191 

g^ 


"Mother,  you  can't  catch  me!  Just  try  if 
you  can." 

"There!  I  have  caught  you,  darling.  You 
must  run  fast  if  you  don't  want  to  be  caught. 
Now  let  us  look  again  at  the  picture.  Do  you 
see  the  little  girl  who  is  playing  with  her  kitten  ? 
She  has  tied  a  piece  of  paper  to  a  string,  and 
dangles  it  just  within  reach  of  kitty's  claws.  But 
when  kitty  tries  to  catch  it  she  jerks  it  high  in 
the  air." 

"Mother,  what  are  these  other  children 
doing?" 

"  They  are  trying  to  catch  butterflies.  Two  of 
the  little  girls  have  a  net  ;  another  girl  tries  to 
catch  the  butterfly  with  her  hand  ;  and  the  child 
who  is  kneeling  thinks  she  can  throw  her  hand- 
kerchief over  the  lovely  flying  creature.  But 
the  butterflies  will  not  let  themselves  be  caught." 

"Mother,  I  see  a  little  girl  standing  by  the 
wall.  What  is  she  doing  ?  " 

"  Look  at  her  carefully.  She  has  raised  her- 
self on  tiptoe  as  high  as  she  can.  She  would  like 
to  chase  butterflies  too,  but  can't  get  over  the 
wall." 

"Mother,  the  boy  can  get  over  the  wall,  and 
so  could  I.  Why  doesn't  he  get  quite  over  ?  " 

"He  is  watching  his  brother,  who  has  climbed 
the  high  ladder  you  see  leaning  against  the  wall. 
He  thought  he  could  catch  the  little  swallow  he 
saw  under  the  eaves.  But  the  swallow  has  flown 
away." 

"There  are  two  more  little  children  in  the 
picture,  mother.  One  is  standing  and  the  other 


192  MOTHER  PLAY. 


is   sitting.      How  still  they  are!     They  are  not 
trying  to  catch  anything." 

"  Yes,  they,  too,  want  to  catch  and  hold  some- 
thing. Can  you  guess  what  it  is  ?  " 

"  I  can't  guess  what  it  is,  but  please  tell  me." 
"  Yonder,  across  the  two  little  lakes,  the  sun 
is  setting.     These  children  want  to  catch  and 
keep  his  beautiful  golden  rays.     Do  you  think 
they  can,  my  son  ?  " 

"  Mother,  what  are  you  thinking  about  ?  Why, 
the  sun  is  ever  so  far  off — it  is  away  behind  the 
hill ;  and  even  if  it  wasn't  so  far  off,  the  rays  are 
nothing  but '  shine ! '  They  are  just  like  the  light- 
bird." 

"Yet  the  children  catch  them  and  keep  them." 
"  No,  no,  mother,  they  can  never  do  that ! " 
"  Yes,  dear,  they  catch  them  with  their  eyes 
and  they  keep  them  in  their  hearts.  Don't  you 
remember  how  father  looked  when  he  said  good- 
bye to  you  the  last  time  he  went  away  on  a 
trip  ?  Don't  you  remember  his  loving  eyes  and 
his  dear  smile  ?  You  do  remember,  for  you  have 
told  me  all  about  it  lately.  Didn't  you  seem  to 
see  dear  father  when  you  asked  me  if  he  would 
soon  be  home  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother — yes,  I  see  father  all  the  time. 
Dear,  dear  father  ! " 


XXVIII. 
THE  SHADOW  RABBIT. 

THE  mother  calls  her  child  to  see 
A  shadow  on  the  wall. 

What  is  it  ?  Why,  a  rabbit,  dear- 
Mouth,  ears  and  feet,  and  all ! 


The  light  may  lie  in  splendour  on  the  wall, 
And  yet  without  man's  skill  that  light  is  all. 
The  light  alone  no  picture  can  produce  ; 
Our  hands  without  it  are  of  little  use. 
Together,  they  can  make  a  picture  fine, 
While  baby's  eyes  with  happy  wonder  shine. 

Now  turn  we  to  the  lines  of  deeper  thought 

With  which  the  baby's  picture-show  is  fraught. 

Let  Mm  upon  the  white  wall  try  to  throw 

Some  shadow  whose  rude  semblance  you  may  know, 

And  let  him  do  it  often,  o'er  and  o'er, 

Until  a  thought  is  born  not  his  before : 

The  thought  that  he  creates — and  that  his  will 

Must  guide  his  hand  if  he  would  work  with  skill> 

And  when,  with  pensive  love,  in  years  to  come, 

His  thoughts  turn  backward  to  his  childhood's  home, 

Its  scenes  so  distant  trying  to  recall, 

Perchance  he'll  see  the  rabbit  on  the  wall ; 

And  to  his  heart  at  last  will  come  this  word  : 

Who  would  God's  comfort  find  must  work  with  God.y 

Even  life's  shadows  beautiful  may  grow, 

If  with  Heaven's  light  we  work  to  make  them  so.         / 

Shadow  games  are  everywhere  familiar.     The 
manner  of  playing  them  has,  moreover,  been  so 
successfully  indicated  by  our  artist  that  no  words 
193 


Der  Sautter  tiebe  £anb, 
9ftad)t  1g  $a'gd)en  an  bie  SBanb. 

^rfteUt  bad  8id)t  aud)  gfetdi  bie 

roetjje  Sffianb, 
(So  fommt  benned)   auf  i^r 

fein  Sttb  ju  ©tanb. 
grfi  wenn  beg  SWenfdjen  ^anb 

mtt  funftgewanbter  ^raft 
3m  @d)em  beg  £id)teg  »or  ber 

2Banb  tun^otteg  fd)afft ; 
@rft  bann  erfd^eint  ein  fd)6'ne« 

Sebgebtlb, 
ag  2)etneg  ^inbeg  fien  mit 

fro&er  Suft  erfiiat.— 
Drum  u'b1  tm  ©piete  fd)on  beg 

^tnbeg  93tlbnerlraft, 
Da§,  etnft  seretnet  mtt   be* 

en^gen  Std^teg  5Wad)t, 
2ebengfd>atten  felbft,  fie 

,A6n  ©ebilte  faafft, 
Unb_Du  tm  ^tnbegfpiet 
i  bebad)t." 


194 


THE  SHADOW   RABBIT.  195 

of  explanation  are  needed.  It  goes  without  say- 
ing that  they  exercise  the  sense  of  sight,  and  that, 
as  they  are  most  easily  produced  by  means  of 
artificial  light,,  the  best  time  for  playing  them  is 
in  the  evening.  Under  favouring  conditions, 
good  shadow  pictures  may,  however,  be  produced 
by  using  the  early  morning  or  late  afternoon 
sunlight.  Owing  to  the  great  variety  of  their 
forms,  positions,  and  movements,  these  moving 
shadows  never  fail  to  fascinate  alike  little  chil- 
dren and  older  boys  and  girls.  The  latter  are 
especially  delighted  when  they  can  make  the 
shadow  pictures  themselves. 

It  is  my  firm  conviction  that  whatever  yields 
the  child  a  pure  and  persistent  pleasure  has  at  its 
root  some  spiritual  truth  of  the  highest  import. 
I  do  not  wish  to  force  this  conviction  upon  any 
other  person.  I  am  sure  it  will  harm  no  one  who 
freely  makes  it  his  own.  More  than  this,  I  believe 
that  its  general  recognition  will  result  in  richly 
blessing  the  rising  generation,  and,  indeed,  the 
whole  of  humanity. 

What  causes  the  rabbit  to  appear  upon  the 
wall  ? 

Between  the  bright  light  which  shines  on  the 
smooth,  white  wall  is  thrust  a  dark  object,  and 
straightway  appears  the  form  which  so  delights 
the  child.  This  is  the  outward  fact ;  what  is  the 
truth  which  through  this  fact  is  dimly  hinted  to 
the  prophetic  mind  ?  Is  it  not  the  creative  and 
transforming  power  of  light,  that  power  which 
brings  form  and  colour  out  of  chaos,  and  makes 
the  beauty  which  gladdens  our  hearts  ?  Is  it  not 


196  MOTHER  PLAY. 

more  than  this — a  foreshadowing,  perhaps,  of  the 
spiritual  fact  that  our  darkest  experiences  may 
project  themselves  in  forms  that  will  delight  and 
bless,  if  in  our  hearts  shines  the  light  of  God  ? 
The  sternest  crags,  the  most  forbidding  chasms, 
are  beautiful  in  the  mellow  sunshine,  while  the 
fairest  landscape  loses  all  charm,  and  indeed 
ceases  to  be,  when  the  light  which  created  it  is 
withdrawn.  Is  it  not  thus  also  with  our  lives  ? 
Yesterday,  touched  by  the  light  of  enthusiastic 
emotion,  all  our  relationships  seemed  beauti- 
ful and  blessed;  to-day,  when  the  glow  of  en- 
thusiasm has  faded,  they  oppress  and  repulse  us. 
Only  the  conviction  that  it  is  the  darkness  within 
us  which  makes  the  darkness  without,  can  restore 
the  lost  peace  of  our  souls.  Be  it  therefore,  O 
mother,  your  sacred  duty  to  make  your  darling 
early  feel  the  working  both  of  the  outer  and 
inner  light.  Let  him  see  in  one  the  symbol  of 
the  other,  and,  tracing  light  and  colour  to  their 
source  in  the  sun,  may  he  learn  to  trace  the 
beauty  and  meaning  of  his  life  to  their  source  in 
God. 

The  object  of  this  little  play  is  to  point  out  to 
you  how  you  may  give  your  child  some  revealing 
hint  of  the  working  both  of  natural  and  spiritual 
light.  It  gains  additional  charm  when  two  per- 
sons, with  hands  of  different  sizes,  represent  at 
the  same  time  two  rabbits  differing  in  size  and 
position.  The  picture,  or  rather  the  group  of 
pictures,  is  self-explanatory.  Nevertheless,  your 
sympathetic  word  will  add  more  life  and  mean- 
ing. 


XXIX. 
WOLF   AND  WILD-PIG. 

THE  interest  a  young  child  gives 

To  every  animal  that  lives, 

Dear  mother,  is  an  open  door 

Through  which  unbounded  good  may  pour, 
Filling  his  mind  with  knowledge  manifold, 
Of  Nature's  wondrous  laws,  so  new,  so  old. 

But  watch  !  lest  by  this  selfsame  way 

Into  his  soul  some  ill  may  stray, 

And,  while  your  eyes  look  other  where, 

Make  for  itself  a  lodgment  there. 
Watch,  and  with  noble  thoughts  so  fill  his  mind 
That  passing  evil  may  no  shelter  find. 

Picture,  song,  and  motto  are  reciprocally  ex- 
planatory ;  hence  few  words  are  needed  by  way 
of  commentary.  This  shadow  picture  is  made 
by  laying  the  hands  together,  palm  against  palm 
and  finger  against  finger,  and  then  alternately 
parting  and  joining  them.  The  thumbs  are  so 
held  as  to  make  shadows  somewhat  resembling 
ears.  It  may  require  practice  to  produce  this 
picture.  In  our  illustration  the  hands  are  too 
widely  open,  therefore  the  shadow  is  not  correct. 

The  lower  passions  are  often  conspicuously 
displayed  by  animals.  Hence,  if  the  child's  imag- 
ination is  to  be  kept  pure  and  his  delicacy  of 
feeling  unimpaired,  his  curiosity  about  animals 

197 


SBa3  ntir  baS  tftnb  itmgiebt, 

33tlbe  Itett : 
Set  3Bolf  e«,  fe 
2>a$  ^inb  fann  e2  erfreun ; 
2Betfe, 

.ffinb  gar  gern  «nb 
leife. 
25od(>  tfieuer  2>tr  bafcet 

SRetn^ctt  fet." 


193 


WOLF  AND  WILD-PIG.  199 

must  be  hedged  and  guarded.  With  children 
whose  nerves  have  been  overstimulated,  it  is  par- 
ticularly important  to  preserve  the  purity  of 
phantasy,  and  neither  to  wound  nor  blunt  the 
sense  of  shame.  Even  when  nothing  has  occurred 
to  make  special  precaution  necessary,  it  is  impor- 
tant to  avoid  those  careless  words  which  waken 
premature  curiosity  and  suspicion.  Preserving 
unblemished  the  purity  of  his  heart,  the  innocent 
child  will  be  unscathed  by  the  guiltless  phenom- 
ena of  Nature,  easily  explaining  them  to  himself 
by  the  thought  that  "  animals  know  no  better/' 

Man,  however,  is  no  animal — or,  rather,  he  is 
more  than  the  animal.  Man  knows  what  he  does, 
or,  at  least,  he  should  know.  Even  a  child  should 
have  this  knowledge.  Therefore,  mother,  call 
his  attention  to  the  fact  that  in  Nature  every 
creature  conforms  to  the  stage  of  being  it  has 
attained,  and  lives  and  develops  in  harmony  with 
the  demands  of  its  total  environment.  An  illus- 
tration of  this  harmony  was  given  you  in  my 
commentary  upon  The  Bird's  Nest.  Because  the 
life  of  animals  is  thus  adapted  to  environment 
it  is  healthy  and  happy.  The  same  is  true  of  the 
life  of  plants.  Like  flower  and  tree,  like  beast 
and  bird,  the  human  being  should  respond  to  his 
environment,  and  be  pliant  to  the  demands  of 
each  successive  stage  of  development. 

Injudicious  interference  with  the  natural  pro- 
cess of  development  cripples  the  powers  and 
retards  the  progress  of  the  soul.  On  the  other 
hand,  each  stage  of  development  makes  specific 
claims,  which  it  is  fatal  to  disregard.  To  awaken 


3 dm  cm. 

5lu3  bent  griinen  Sid)enn?ii(t, 

beS  SBitbeS  JHufentbalt, 
©tefc !  lommt  and)  etn  2ch toct'n 

bafyer, 
Sauft  bte  freuj  unb  tciwft  bte 

quer, 
©itc^t   ft(^    SZa^rung    fiir   ben 

iWagen  t 

eln  miiffen  tt)m  te^acicn. 
.nter  fetnen  fd)ma(en  S?acfen 
orft  3)it  fie  e3  toarfer  fnacffn. 
fte^t  e$  ben  Sciger  fom« 

men, 
©dwell  fyat  e«  9tetgau«  gencm- 

men." 


200 


WOLF  AND  WILD-PIG.  201 

in  the  child  a  lively  sense  of  these  claims  and  a 
desire  to  meet  them,  is  to  fit  him  for  the  rounded 
life  born  of  an  all- sided  fulfilment  of  duty. 

To  each  age  is  confided  something  which  it 
alone  can  cherish.  Hence  each  age  has  duties 
from  whose  performance  it  may  not  be  released. 
Childhood  forms  no  exception  to  this  general  law. 
Happy  the  child  who  is  led,  even  though  uncon- 
sciously, to  act  in  accordance  with  its  claims. 

Duties  are  not  burdens  but  privileges.  The 
path  of  duty  leads  to  light  and  to  all  the  bless- 
ings conferred  by  light.  Therefore,  each  normal 
and  healthy  child  gladly  fulfils  duties.  Such 
duties,  however,  must  be  genuine,  clear,  definite, 
and,  above  all,  inexorable. 

The  fulfilment  of  duty  strengthens  body  and 
soul.  The  sense  of  duty  done  gives  self-reliance. 
Mother!  father!  observe  how  happy  your  child 
is  in  the  performance  of  duty,  and  how  he  seems 
to  feel  himself  therein  allied  to  you.  Guard  these 
feelings  sacredly,  for  in  them  are  the  seeds  of 
blessedness.  He  who  wins  inner  collectedness, 
who  views  his  life  as  a  whole,  and  who  respects 
this  wholeness  of  life  in  each  particular  deed, 
shall  find  at  last  the  "  peace  which  subsists  at  the 
heart  of  endless  agitation." 


15 


SHADOW    PICTURES. 


From  Theoretisches  und  Praktisches  TTandbuch  der  Froebel 
schen  Erziehungslehre.  B.  von  Mannholz  Billow.  Publisher 
Georg  II.  Wigand,  Kassel. 


SHADOW     PICTURES. 


203 


lann,  burd)13   genfier 
ta3  iitd)t  jit  erblirfen, 
3)eS  tfinfcea  £erj  tod)  fo 
fdjon  begliiden  ?— 


erbliif)t  : 

SBtt  narem  ieben 
3)a$  ^tnb  jtt  nmgeben, 
@et,  aflutter,  bemiibt. 


204 


XXX. 

THE  LITTLE  WINDOW. 

A  LITTLE  baby  seeks  the  light 

Not  with  intelligent  intent ; 

It  is  his  native  element, 
And  heaven-born  instinct  guides  his  sight. 

My  meaning,  mother,  can  you  read  ? 
A  token  this  by  which  we  know 
His  soul,  too,  in  the  light  must  grov,r. 

Oh,  may  God  help  you  meet  this  need  ! 

205 


n  in  fldj  etnfg  Sebett  fet  ; 
^e  flcfoerem  ©eful)te33.ilmen, 
2)a§  ed  (etbjl  son  tfym  ein  ©tieb 

ja  fet. 

Sa§  ee  fiil)lett,  wad  auii)  luett 
etrennt  erfd^etne, 
icfy   boc^   ein  inntg  eintg 
Seben  etne, 
Vlnb  ba§  Sebe«,  roenn 


3u  ben  SRenfAen  boc^  ftnnbilb 


XXXI. 

THE  WINDOW. 

SOMETIMES  there  stirs  within  a  young  child's  soul 

A  dim  forecasting,  hardly  yet  a  thought, 
Of  his  place  in  the  Universal  Whole. 

Oh,  foster  it !    Let  it  not  pass  for  naught ; 
Meet  every  question.    Help  him  still  to  see 

And  trust  the  inner  'neath  the  outward  show. 
Teach  him  that  things  apart  in  space  may  be 

United  in  his  thought.     Help  him  to  know 
That  to  the  heart  attent  all  things  may  speak. 

So  shall  he,  listening,  learn  to  understand ; 
And  all  the  clinging  mists  at  length  shall  break, 

And  joyfully  he'll  live  as  God  has  planned. 

THE  TWO  WINDOWS.      . 

The  two  Window  plays  originated  in  my  mind 
as  a  response  to  the  suggestion  thrown  out  by 
children  in  their  fondness  for  peeping  at  light 
through  a  pinhole,  through  the  opening  made 
by  laying  the  slightly  parted  fingers  of  one  hand 
across  the  slightly  parted  fingers  of  the  other 
hand,  or  through  any  very  small  inclosed  space. 
I  seemed  to  recognise  in  this  phenomenon  a  sym- 
bolic import.  In  order  that  spiritual  light  may 
not  merely  dazzle,  it  must  at  first  enter  the  heart 
and  mind,  as  it  were,  through  chinks.  Only  as 
the  spiritual  eye  gains  strength  can  it  bear  the 
fuller  blaze  of  truth. 

By  studying  the  pictures  which  illustrate 
207 


208  MOTHER  PLAY. 

these  two  plays  you  may  easily  learn  the  man- 
ner of  playing  them.  It  is  self-evident  that  they 
may  be  played  either  by  daylight  or  by  lamp- 
light. 

The  Window  plays  are  counterparts  to  the 
Shadow  plays.  The  aim  of  the  Shadow  plays  is 
to  suggest  how  we  may  avoid  wakening  the 
child's  lower  instincts.  The  aim  of  the  Window 
plays  is  to  rouse  and  quicken  his  sympathy  for 
what  is  high  and  noble. 

In  the  commentaries  to  the  Tick-tack  and 
the  Fishes,  I  urged  you,  dear  mother,  to  culti- 
vate in  your  child  a  love  for  all  that  is  clean 
and  pure  and  clear.  Let  me  now  entreat  you 
to  cherish  and  foster  his  delight  in  all  that 
is  shining,  transparent,  luminous,  and  illumi- 
nating. 

Observe  the  absorption  of  yonder  little  chil- 
dren in  the  beloved  phenomena  of  light.  What 
should  more  quickly  attract  and  more  strongly 
rivet  the  child's  attention  than  that  which  is 
luminous  and  illuminating  ?  He  inhales  the  light 
as  he  inhales  the  air.  Light  is  the  atmosphere  of 
the  soul.  Purity  of  heart  is  the  illuminated  sum- 
mit of  character,  which  wise  men  discern  and 
wiser  men  achieve.  Mother^  exercise  your  child's 
strength  that  he  may  have  power  to  climb  this 
height.  Father,  reach  him  from  above  your 
helping  hand. 

"Mother,  why  does  the  little  boy  who  is 
standing  in  the  window  look  so  serious  ?  " 

"  He  is  watching  the  lovely  colours  which  the 
sunlight  makes  in  the  water." 


THE  TWO  WINDOWS.  209 

"  Mother,  father,  come  here !  Come  quickly ! 
See,  sister  has  set  a  glass  of  clean  water  in  tho 
window !  Look  at  the  beautiful  bright-coloured 
circles  and  rays !  They  are  just  like  the  rainbow 
and  the  dewdrops.  Oh,  mother,  how  pretty  they 
are!  The  colours  play  with  each  other  when 
sister  moves  the  glass,  just  as  you  play  'catch' 
with  us." 

As  the  child  rejoices  in  this  play  of  colour,  the 
nobleman  rejoices  in  that  "rainbow  flowering" 
of  the  soul  which  is  the  rich  reward  of  a  wise  and 
tender  spiritual  nurture.  Mother,  see  to  it  that 
the  youth  and  maiden  enshrine  and  preserve  the 
pure  visions  of  childhood. 

"  But  why  is  the  little  boy  crying  ?  " 

"Oh,  dear!  He  has  carelessly  broken  the 
bright  glass  in  the  window,  and  now,  if  he 
doesn't  want  to  shut  the  light  out  of  the  room 
with  a  board  or  piece  of  paper,  he  must  go 
to  the  glazier,  who  lives  a  long  way  off,  and 
ask  him  to  put  in  a  new  pane.  Sometimes  we 
are  like  this  little  boy :  we  do  something  which 
keeps  light  from  getting  into  our  hearts.  Then, 
what  a  sad  time  we  have  in  the  dark,  and  how 
much  trouble  we  have  to  take  before  we  can 
get  the  light  again!  But  do  you  see  the  little 
girl  in  the  picture,  who  has  opened  the  door 
so  that  light  may  get  into  the  dark  cellar  ?  Be 
like  her,  darling:  open  all  the  doors  and  win- 
dows of  your  heart  to  the  dear  light;  then 
everything  within  will  be  clear,  and  everything 
without  will  be  fair.  The  world  will  be  all 
beautiful  to  you,  as  it  is  to  thextiJi^boy  who 

f      ~  OF  THE 

(UNIVERSITY 


210  MOTHER  PLAY. 

stands  in  his  mother's  lap,  watching  for  the 
coming  of  the  sun.  The  baby  the  other  mother 
has  in  her  arms  loves  to  look  at  the  sun  too. 
The  little  boy  who  is  pointing  towards  the  win- 
dow says  to  his  sister,  "  Come,  let  us  ask  mother 
if  we  may  go  for  a  while  into  the  garden;  it 
is  so  lovely  out  of  doors."  "Yes,  children," 
answers  the  mother,  "  you  may  go ;  and  be  sure 
to  try  to  be  like  the  shining,  kindly  light  which 
makes  all  this  loveliness." 


XXXII. 
THE  CHARCOAL-BURNER. 

THAT  smallest  seeming  causes  power  may  wield — 
That  firmest  matter  to  man's  strength  must  yield — 
That  under  aspect  mean  great  good  may  hide — 
In  your  child's  mind  plant  these  truths  side  by  side. 

The  picture  shows  the  position  of  the  hands. 
The  wrist  rests  upon  some  object  (e.  g.,  a  table) 
which  represents  the  ground. 

We  have  recognised  the  eye  as  a  mediator  be- 
tween man's  inner  being  and  the  spiritual  world. 
Conversely,  the  hand  mediates  man's  inner  being 
and  the  material  world.  Furthermore,  it  medi- 
ates the  objects  of  sense-perception  and  the 
higher  forms  of  thought.  This  mediatorial  func- 
tion of  the  hand  is  not  confined  to  mature  life. 
It  is  active  and  effective  even  within  the  narrow 
limits  of  childish  play. 

Man  has  but  two  hands  and  two  times  four 
fingers.  The  fingers  of  each  hand  correspond 
with  those  of  the  other.  The  two  thumbs,  set 
opposite  to  each  other,  act  as  a  mole  or  dam  to 
the  fingers.  Such  is  the  instrument  with  which 
so  many  things  may  be  done — with  which,  to  the 
delight  of  the  child,  so  many  objects  may  be 
represented. 

211 


Sautter,  jetg1*,  ju  tfjmDeht 
^inb  erbebe." 


213 


THE  CHARCOAL-BURNER.  213 

By  using  his  hands,  the  child  learns  how 
much  may  be  done  with  the  few  things  within 
his  grasp,  or,  in  other  words,  how  much  he  may 
accomplish  without  reaching  beyond  the  narrow 
boundaries  of  his  own  little  life.  That  English- 
man was  perfectly  right  who  wrote  a  whole  book 
to  prove  that  the  hand  is  a  witness  of  God's 
fatherly  love  and  goodness.*  Mother,  seek  to 
form  in  your  child  the  habit  of  looking  at  his 
hand  from  this  point  of  view,  in  order  that  he 
may  never  injure  either  it  or  himself  by  its  mis- 
use, but  may  through  productive  and  creative 
activity  rise  into  the  image  of  God. 

And  as  you  teach  your  child  to  respect  his 
own  hand,  teach  him  also  to  respect  those  who 
work  with  their  hands.  Waken  his  gratitude 
towards,  and  consideration  for,  those  through 
whose  labour  he  is  blessed  with  food,  clothing, 
and  shelter.  Teach  him  to  honour  each  "toil- 
worn  craftsman,"  however  humble  his  calling, 
who  wards  off  danger  from  individuals  and  com- 
munities, and  whose  labour  directly  furthers  the 
welfare  of  mankind. 

Without  the  charcoal  burner,  where  were 
most  of  our  technical  arts  ?  Without  his  patient 
labour,  where  were  those  chemical  researches 


*  The  book  to  which  Froebel  refers  is  presumably  The 
Hand:  Its  Mechanism  and  Vital  Endowments,  as  evincing 
Design,  and  Illustrating  the  Power,  Wisdom,  and  Goodness  of 
God,  by  Sir  Charles  Bell.  Published  as  one  of  the  Bridgewater 
Treatises,  1832 ;  ninth  edition,  1874  (George  Bell  &  Sons,  Covent 
Garden).  (From  Miss  Lord's  note  to  this  commentary.) 


214  MOTHER  PLAY. 

which  have  solved  so  many  of  the  secrets  of 
Nature  ?  * 


*  At  the  close  of  his  commentary  on  this  game,  Froebel  sug- 
gests that  older  children  be  told  how  charcoal  burners  saved 
little  German  princes  from  death,  or  from  a  captivity  worse 
than  death.  From  Miss  Lord's  notes  to  the  Mother  Play  I 
borrow  the  following  account  of  the  story  which  Froebel  had  in 
mind: 

"  Frederick,  Elector  of  Saxony,  had  two  sons.  Always  at 
war,  his  enemies  at  length  sent  Kunz  von  Kauffingen  with  other 
soldiers  to  the  Castle  of  Altenburg,  July  7, 1455,  to  carry  the 
two  boys  away.  Kunz  went  off  with  Albert,  Mosen  with  Ernest. 
Kunz  neared  the  Bohemian  border  by  noon  on  July  8th,  but,  as 
Albert  was  thirsty,  stopped  to  pick  bilberries  in  the  wood.  A 
charcoal  burner  suddenly  appeared,  and  at  once  guessed  this 
was  the  boy  about  whom  alarm-bells  were  ringing  throughout 
Saxony.  He  fought  Kunz  with  his  long  poking  pole  (Schur- 
baum)  till  help  came,  or,  as  he  expressed  it  to  the  Electress, 
when  she  thanked  him,  "  Hab  ihn  weidlich  getrillt " ;  and  he  is 
called  merely  "Triller"  in  the  legal  documents  conveying  to 
him  and  his  heirs  rights  in  the  Saxon  forest  for  ever.  This 
Albert  is  ancestor  of  the  present  Saxon  house.  Prince  Ernest 
was  rescued  on  July  llth.  Twelfth  in  direct  descent  from  him 
was  Albert,  the  late  Prince  Consort ;  the  Prince  of  Wales  is  thus 
thirteenth. 

"  See  (brief  account)  Aunt  Charlotte's  Stories  of  German 
History,  by  Charlotte  M.  Yonge  (Marcus  Ward,  1878),  p.  182 ; 
(most  lively  account)  Thomas  Carlyle  (Works)  an  essay,  The 
Prinzenraub :  A  Glimpse  of  Saxon  History,  in  the  Westminster 
Review,  January,  1855." 


XXXIII. 
THE   CARPENTER. 

How  many  things  can  love  invent 

To  catch  a  baby's  sight ! 
Now  see  his  mother,  with  her  hands 
Making  a  carpenter  who  stands 

Working  with  all  his  might. 

In  mother's  arms  is  baby's  school, 

His  books  these  little  plays; 
Within  each  one  she  leads  his  mind 
The  germ  of  some  great  thought  to  find, 

And  treasure  all  his  days. 

The  successive  gestures  in  this  play  are  dif- 
ficult to  describe.  They  should  be  seen  in  order 
to  be  understood.  However,  I  will  explain  them 
as  clearly  as  possible. 

The  position  of  the  hands,  with  which  the  rep- 
resentations begin,  resembles  that  which  made  the 
charcoal-burner's  hut.  The  hands  are,  however, 
held  more  freely.  The  tips  of  the  little  fingers, 
ring  fingers,  and  middle  fingers  meet.  The  fore- 
fingers are  free.  The  forefinger  of  the  left  hand 
represents  a  tree.  The  forefinger  of  the  right 
hand  is  a  woodman.  A  sawing  movement  indi- 
cates that  he  is  felling  the  tree.  When  this  move- 
ment has  been  made  several  times  the  tree  is  sup- 
posed to  have  fallen,  and  the  left  forefinger  is 
held  in  a  horizontal  position  with  its  tip  touching 
215 


3fmmerm<mn 

jum 


fann! 

fefjt  ifir  gar,  »te  etnen  Simmer' 
mann 

^anb  unb  ginger  geflalten  jte 
fann. 


,SBa3  fmmer  »on  STnbern 

getotg  e*  tm  tinbe 


2>euten 

©tnnli^en 
Bunt  ©inntgen 
$inii&er  mtt  ^lar^ett  ju  leiten. 


216 


THE  CARPENTER.  217 

the  knuckle  or  base  of  the  right  forefinger.  The 
now  bent  forefinger  of  the  right  hand  first  indi- 
cates by  a  chopping  movement  that,  the  woodman 
is  hacking  the  trunk  from  the  stump ;  then,  by  a 
sawing  movement,  that  he  is  cutting  it  into  logs 
of  different  lengths.  The  position  of  the  hands 
which  represents  the  house  is  clearly  shown  in 
the  drawing,  wherein  gable,  window,  and  street 
door  may  be  easily  recognised.  The  door  has, 
however,  been  made  rather  too  small. 

By  cleanliness  of  body,  by  neat  and  suitable 
apparel,  and  by  the  development  and  right  use 
of  his  physical  and  mental  powers,  each  member 
of  a  family  contributes  to  the  activity  and  happi- 
ness of  its  corporate  life.  In  like  manner,  the 
house  should  contribute  by  its  plan,  structure, 
and  furniture  to  the  ease  with  which  all  domestic 
duties  may  be  fulfilled.  What  the  skin  is  to  the 
body,  the  house  is  to  the  family,  whose  life  it 
environs,  protects,  and  within  certain  limits  de- 
termines. Can  we  exaggerate  the  influence  of  a 
wisely  planned  and  well-ordered  house,  either 
upon  the  health,  the  comfort,  or  the  happiness  of 
its  inmates  ?  May  it  be  that  children  love  to  build 
little  houses  because  they  have  a  presentiment 
that  the  house  shelters  and  nurtures  that  fam- 
ily life  which  is  the  high  and  holy  exemplar  of 
corporate  living  ?  Doubt  not  that  all  that  is 
serious  and  significant  in  the  life  of  humanity 
thrills  as  premonitions  in  the  breast  of  the  child. 
Unfortunately,  he  does  not  understand  his  own 
obscure  feelings.  Even  less,  alas,  are  they  under- 
stood and  fostered  by  those  who  surround  him ! 
16 


218  MOTHER  PLAY. 

What  a  difference  it  would  make  to  childhood,  to 
youth,  to  humanity,  in  all  stages  of  development 
and  in  all  relationships,  if  these  prescient  stirrings 
of  the  soul  were  nurtured,  strengthened,  devel- 
oped, and  finally  lifted  into  the  clear  light  of 
consciousness ! 

The  priceless  blessing  of  a  happy  home  can  he 
won  only  by  struggle,  endurance,  and  self-sacri- 
fice. Is  some  prophetic  sense  of  this  truth  stir- 
ring the  pulses  of  the  little  lad  in  our  picture  ? 
Is  this  why  he  is  letting  himself  be  sawed  as  if 
he  were  a  tree  ? 

And  the  two  dear  little  sisters  sitting  so 
thoughtfully  by  the  house  they  have  built — are 
their  hearts  illuminated  by  a  foregleam  of  the 
sanctity  of  the  home  ? 

What  may  not  the  little  heads  be  thinking, 
the  little  hearts  feeling  ? 

Thus  much  at  least  the  young  child  realizes — 
that  it  is  pleasant  to  have  a  pretty,  cosy  home. 
Perhaps,  too,  within  the  depths  of  feeling  may 
float  an  unconscious  faith  that  from  such  a  home 
stream  the  meaning,  the  sanctity,  the  blessedness 
of  life. 

The  mother  who  sits  below  on  the  left  seems 
to  be  trying  to  impress  upon  her  child  that  he 
should  respect  the  carpenter  and  his  labour. 
"Where,"  she  asks,  "could  mother  live,  where 
could  baby  live,  were  it  not  for  the  kind  carpen- 
ter who  builds  them  a  house  ?  " 


XXXIV. 

THE  BRIDGE. 

LET  your  child  build  mimic  bridges 

As  his  hands  move  to  and  fro ; 
Germs  of  thought  are  being  planted 

Which  in  after  years  will  grow. 

Face  to  face,  but  never  meeting, 

Frown  the  river's  ancient  walls  ; 
To  the  far  divine,  the  human 

Through  the  ages  faintly  calls. 

Banks  are  fixed,  but  man  can  join  them, 
Conquering  stubborn  space  with  skill ; 

And  despite  life's  contradictions, 
Love  at  last  learns  God's  dear  will. 

The  Bridge  is  produced  by  a  slight  modifica- 
tion of  the  House,  or  of  the  Charcoal-burner's  Hut. 
The  two  thumbs  make  the  piers,  the  finger-tips 
of  the  right  and  left  hands  meet  to  form  the 
bridge.  The  tip  of  one  middle  finger  is  placed 
under  that  of  the  other. 

To  find  or  create  a  bond  of  union  between 
seemingly  opposed  and  even  antagonistic  objects 
is  always  a  beneficent  and  rewarding  deed. 
Mother,  be  it  your  care  to  afford  your  child  early 
and  recurrent  experiences  of  this  truth.  No  one 
feels  more  deeply  than  you  the  bitter  pain  born, 
of  apparently  insoluble  contradictions,  or  the  joy 
which  springs  out  of  unhoped-for  reconciliations. 
.  219 


SIuc^  ©etrennteg  jit  ser&tnbeit, 
Sag  ba3  $mb  tm  ©piele  finben; 
ttnb  ba§  »of)t  bte  9^en 
Da  a«d)  bte  SSerfniipfiing  f^afft, 
9Bo  bte  5trenn«ng  fc^embar  itnte 

jtttngltcf), 
2Bo  bte  Sin'gung  unerf^wittalt^," 


OFTH 

UNIVERSITY 


THE  BRIDGE.  X^^gAUFORNjAj^r  ' 


Through,  such  reconciliations  the  peace  of  heaven 
descends  into  human  hearts  and  homes. 

Family  and  home  are  themselves  a  mediation 
of  opposites,  a  reconciliation  of  contrasts.  They 
bridge  that  deepest  of  all  chasms  which  sepa- 
rates earth  from  heaven.  Teach  your  child,  there- 
fore, to  recognise  the  inner  in  the  outer  ;  to  dis- 
cern in  the  house  the  symbol  and  safeguard  of 
family  life  ;  to  revere  in  him  who  creates  the 
visible  sign  a  type  of  Him  who  confers  the  spirit- 
ual blessing.  In  a  word,  make  his  gratitude 
towards  the  carpenter  a  point  of  departure  for 
wakening  his  gratitude  towards  Him  who  sent 
the  carpenter's  son  to  live  on  earth,  in  order  that 
the  sternest  contradictions  of  life  might  be  solved 
and  the  abodes  of  men  become  homes  of  peace 
and  joy  and  divine  indwelling. 

With  this  ideal  in  mind,  lead  your  child  to 
build,  in  play,  the  reconciling  bridge,  and  thus 
through  a  uniting  deed  to  gain  his  first  forebod- 
ing of  the  truth  that  in  himself  and  through  his 
own  self  -activity  he  must  find  the  solution  of  all 
contradictions,  the  mediation  of  all  apparently 
irreconcilable  opposition.  Show  him  this  truth 
again  in  your  own  life,  and,  above  all,  in  the 
mediatorial  life  and  teaching  of  Him  who  on 
earth  was  the  carpenter's  son.  So  shall  the  vis- 
ible bridge  which  the  child  carpenter  builds  be 
one  link  in  the  chain  of  experience  by  which  he 
spans  the  gulf  between  things  seen  and  things 
unseen,  and  learns  to  recognise  in  the  carpenter's 
son  the  beloved  Son  of  God,  the  All-Father,  and 
the  Mediator  between  him  and  man. 


,,3BaS  bie  SJhttterltebe  fofenb  trelbt, 
<5d)eint  13  baS  £tnb  a«d)  nod)  ntd)t 
ju  serflefcen, 

nt  bie  Ontdjt  oud)  lange  t^jr 
ntd)t  fefien, 
bent  £inb  aU 
Metbt. 
£>arum 

beroa^ren, 

Iteb,  »or 
©efaftren ; 
!)enn    wa«    S^utterliebe    fofenb 

treibt, 
ginft  bent 


XXXV. 

THE  FARMYARD  GATE. 

DEAR  mother,  try  in  all  your  baby's  plays 

To  sow  some  little  seed  for  later  days. 

If  for  his  pets  he  learns  a  tender  care, 

The  planted  thought  unlooked-for  fruit  may  bear. 

An  impulse  given,  in  widening  circles  moves : 

He'll  learn,  ere  long,  to  cherish  all  he  loves. 

Your  gentle  words  he  may  not  seem  to  heed, 
But  they  shall  live  to  serve  him  in  his  need  ; 
They  float  now  on  the  surface  of  his  mind, 
But  by-and-bye  they  shall  safe  harbour  find  ! 
"  My  mother's  words ! "  he  to  his  heart  shall  say, 
"  Oh,  fold  them  in  your  tenderest  depths  away.1' 
223 


$a*  ©artentljor. 

,,aOa«  fo3  ba«  fein  ?— 

Sin  S^or  in  ben  ©art en. 
SBortnne  bte  ©artner 

I)te  SBIiimelein  warten, 
2?on  manc^erlei  SIrten : 
3)ie  buft'gen  itnb  jarten, 
Oft  fanfte  be^aarten, 
Sn  ^nijfpd)en  serwafirten, 
Slucb  paarrcet^  ^epaarten, 
©leic^  ©tfcdfc^en  gefcfyaarten. 

»|  Bi*M  mtr  (iijrt'bie  SBtitmc^en  fein." 


THE  TWO  GATES. 


225 


THE  TWO  GATES. 

The  position  of  the  hands  which  represents 
the  Garden  Gate  is  more  accurately  pictured  than 
the  position  which  represents  the  Farmyard  Gate. 
Even  the  former  picture,  however,,  is  defective, 
for  the  hands  should  be  somewhat  differently  in- 
clined in  order  to  suggest  a  gate. 

Each  of  these  little  games  embodies  an  im- 
portant thought.  The  idea  suggested  in  the  Farm- 
yard Gate  is  that  the  child  should  be  taught  to 
prize  and  protect  what  he  has  acquired.  The 
thought  illustrated  in  the  Garden  Gate  is  that  he 
should  be  led  to  recognise  and  name  the  different 
objects  in  his  environment. 

In  your  attempt  to  carry  out  the  latter  idea 
be  careful  to  begin  with  the  things  which  the 
child  sees  around  him  in  the  house,  the  yard,  the 
garden,  and  the  meadow.  From  these  advance 
to  the  naming  of  objects  in  the  pasture  and  the 
wood. 

Teach  your  child  not  only  to  recognise  and 
name  objects,  but  also  to  recognise  and  name 
qualities.  Direct  his  attention  both  to  the 
characteristic  activities  of  things  and  to  their 
characteristic  states  and  conditions.  Have  you 
not  noticed  how  such  experiences  attract  and 
delight  him  ?  Do  you  not  know  that  at  a  cer- 
tain stage  of  development  he  finds  or  invents,  as 
if  by  magic,  words  expressive  both  of  active  and 
passive  qualities  ?  With  what  delight  he  dis- 
tinguishes what  is  smooth,  woolly,  hairy,  spark- 


226  MOTHER  PLAY. 

ling,  round!  With  what  eagerness  he  notices 
and  names  such  activities  as  rolling,  creeping, 
hopping !  With  what  almost  miraculous  ease  he 
seizes  and  unites  precept,  concept,  and  name ! 

Obey  the  hint  thrown  out  by  the  child.  Pre- 
serve and  cherish  his  tendency  to  notice  and 
name  objects  and  their  attributes.  For  as  through 
disuse  a  magnet  becomes  rusty  and  loses  its 
power,  so  the  mind  loses  capacities  which  are  not 
sufficiently  and  increasingly  exercised. 

The  precious  wine  in  a  broken  glass  must  be 
enjoyed  at  once  or  lost  forever.  So,  power  not 
instantly  exercised  is  wasted,  and  effort  which 
finds  no  corresponding  object  weakens  and  dies. 

In  flowers  alone  how  many  qualities  there  are 
which  it  interests  the  child  to  discover  and  name ! 
He  loves  to  distinguish  motley  coloured  from 
simply  coloured  blossoms;  delicate  and  tender 
hues  from  brilliant  ones.  He  gladly  notices  the 
forms  of  flowers,  and  identifies  them  as  round, 
bell-shaped,  star- shaped,  wheel-shaped,  funnel- 
shaped.  He  is  attracted  by  the  different  kinds 
of  inflorescence,  and  observes  with  pleasure  that 
some  flowers  grow  singly,  some  in  pairs,  some 
in  bunches  or  heads,  while  some  spread  out 
like  umbrellas.  But  why  go  into  more  detail  ? 
Use  your  own  eyes.  Help  your  child  to  use  his. 
He  will  quickly  learn  or  find  names  for  all  that 
he  really  perceives.  Waste  not  the  fleeting  mo- 
ments. In  them  germinates  the  seed  which  shall 
one  day  grow  into  a  great  tree  of  life — a  tr< 
which  will  comfort  you  with  its  shade  and  refresl 
you  with  its  fruit. 


XXXVI. 

THE  LITTLE  GARDENER. 

IF  to  a  child's  sole  care  is  left 
Something  which,  of  that  care  bereft, 

Would  quickly  pine  and  fade, 
The  joy  of  nurture  he  will  learn ; 
A  rich  experience,  which  will  turn 

His  inner  life  to  aid. 

Mother,  fold  the  fingers  of  your  left  hand  so 
that  they  somewhat  resemble  a  flower  (e.  g.,  the 
bud  of  a  lily).  With  the  fingers  of  your  right 
hand  make  a  watering  can.  Let  your  thumb 
represent  the  spout.  Go  through  the  movement 
of  watering  a  flower,  and  while  doing  so  gradu- 
ally open  the  fingers  of  your  left  hand  to  simulate 
the  unfolding  of  a  bud  into  a  blossom. 

When  you  have  made  these  movements  a  few 
times  in  the  presence  of  your  child  he  will  begin 
to  imitate  you,  for  whatever  mother  love  does  a 
child  gladly  repeats.  This  imitative  activity 
should  be  carefully  cultivated.  Rightly  directed, 
it  will  lighten  by  more  than  half  the  work  of 
education.  Utilised  at  the  proper  stage  of  de- 
velopment, it  will  enable  you  to  accomplish  by  a 
touch  light  as  a  feather  what  later  you  cannot 
do  with  a  hundredweight  of  words.  Believe  that 
I  am  right  before  I  am  justified  by  painful  expe- 
227 


SBiflfl  Dit  be$  £mbe3  ©inn 
entfatten, 
,  ba§  e^  mijg1  fiir 


THE  LITTLE  GARDENER.  229 

rience ;  otherwise  insight  will  only  feed  your  self- 
reproach. 

But  we  must  not  forget  our  little  gardeners, 
for  one  of  the  fairest  and  most  instructive  mani- 
festations of  child  life  is  love  of  "  gardening." 

Cherish!  Nurture!  Care  for!  These,  dear 
mother,  are  words  which  we  have  had  occasion 
to  repeat  many  times  in  our  communings  with 
each  other,  and  in  our  common  attention  to  and 
participation  in  child  life.  Great  must  be,  great 
assuredly  is,  their  importance  to  the  development 
of  our  darlings.  Answer  me  but  one  question : 
What  is  the  supreme  gift  you  would  bestow  on 
the  children  who  are  the  life  of  your  life,  the  soul 
of  your  soul  ?  Would  you  not  above  all  other 
things  render  them  capable  of  giving  nurture  ? 
Would  you  not  endow  them  with  the  courage 
and  constancy  which  the  ability  to  give  nurture 
implies  ?  Mother,  father,  has  not  our  common 
effort  been  directed  towards  just  this  end  ?  Have 
we  not  been  trying  to  break  a  path  towards  this 
blessed  life  ?  Has  not  our  inmost  longing  been 
to  capacitate  our  children  for  this  inexpressible 
privilege  ?  Assuredly  this  is  what  we  have  been 
trying  to  do — what  we  are  doing  even  now  through 
our  little  Garden  play.  And  because  you,  dear 
parents,  are  planting  the  love  of  nurture  in  the 
breasts  of  your  children,  you  may  securely  hope 
that  they  will  lovingly  and  gratefully  cherish  you 
in  age.* 

*  Here  I  omit  a  line.  Froebel  says :  "  You  will  be  cherished 
by  your  grateful  children,  just  as  yonder  boy  is  bestowing  a 
gift  upon  the  old  man  he  scarcely  knows." 


230  MOTHER  PLAY. 

To  give  wise  care,  we  must  consider  time  and 
place.  Thus  al]  plants  cannot  bear  to  be  watered 
directly  on  their  roots.  This  is  particularly  the 
case  with  lilies,  which  easily  rot  if  it  is  done. 

The  little  gardener  in  our  picture  says  to  us 
by  her  thoughtful  mien,  "In  giving  care,  re- 
spect place."  In  like  manner,  the  swiftly  turning 
weather  vane  on  the  top  of  the  garden  house 
which  commands  so  wide  a  view,  says,  "  Consider 
time." 

Watering  in  the  hot  noonday  does  plants  harm 
instead  of  good,  for  the  tired  leaves  have  no 
strength  to  utilise  the  kindly  shower. 

In  the  sunlit  garden, 
Through  the  glad  spring  day, 

Watch  the  happy  little  folks 
Turning  work  to  play. 

Guarding,  watering,  tending, 

With  such  pretty  zeal, 
Doing  from  their  little  hearts, 

As  if  the  flowers  could  feel. 

Such  work  does  not  tire  them, 

For  they  love  it  so ; 
And  are  thanked  in  measure  full, 

If  the  flowers  grow. 


Dear  little  children,  we  will  learn  from  you; 

Gardens  we'll  make,  and  you  the  flowers  shall  be; 

Our  care  shall  seem  no  tedious  drudgery — 
Only  a  happy  trust  that's  ever  new. 


THE  LITTLE  GARDENER.  231 

We'll  guard  you  from  the  great  world's  strife  and  din ; 
But,  ah,  our  chief est,  gladdest  care  shall  be 
To  give  you  your  own  selves  !  to  help  you  see 

The  meaning  of  each  opening  power  within. 

Oh,  blessed  thought,  that  God  to  us  has  given 
The  finishing  of  that  which  he  has  planned ; 
And  as  we  help  your  young  souls  to  expand, 

Our  own,  in  the  sweet  task,  shall  grow  toward  heaven. 


,,Z)af  ber  2Renft&  bie  ^anbe  sle! 

gefrraucfyen  fann, 
©tebt  tin  $mb  au*  balb  nttt 

£uft  unb  greitben  an." 


,  tctr  njcC'it  jum  2Bagner 


2Da«  er  ntac^t,  cienau  6efefitt. 

r,  fteb  nur, 
gtebt  er  fid)  gjiu^r 
ber  93of)rer  flra 
Unb  etn  fc^cne^  $0$  entftel). 
2Ba$  er  ttjoflt',  ift  ferttg  nun, 
jtann  ba«  SRab  jur  33em  t^itn." 


232 


XXXVII. 

THE  WHEELWRIGHT. 

WHY  will  a  child  desert  his  play 

The  craftsman's  work  to  see"? 
Something  within  him,  latent  still, 
Stirs  at  each  stroke  of  strength  or  skill, 

Whisp'ring,  "  Work  waits  for  me  ! " 

The  hands  held  in  a  vertical  position,  with  the 
fingers  closed,  move  horizontally  as  though  de- 
scribing semicircles,  thus  simulating  the  action 
of  a  wheelwright  who  is  boring  a  hole. 

At  the  words  "  Round  it  goes ! "  the  movement 
is  changed,  and  the  two  fists  go  round  and  round 
each  other  like  a  rolling  wheel. 

Said  the  wise  man,  "  Thou  art  a  man,  there- 
fore let  nothing  which  concerns  man  be  indiffer- 
ent to  thee."  Here,  as  in  many  other  cases,  the 
practice  of  the  simple  child  conforms  to  the  in- 
sight of  the  sage.  He  is  interested  in  everything 
done  by  grown-up  people.  The  activities  of 
handicraftsmen  in  particular  attract  his  atten- 
tion. We  have  already  seen  how  important  is 
the  hand,  how  important  are  the  products  of  the 
hand.  Therefore,  mother,  foster  and  encourage 
your  child's  interest  in  watching  the  works  of 
the  skilled  labourer,  and  find  in  it  a  "point  of 
departure  "  for  the  development  of  his  own  pro- 
17  233 


234  MOTHER  PLAY. 

ductive  power.  Raise  his  pleasure  in  seeing 
work  to  pleasure  in  doing  work,  in  order  that 
later  he  may  lead  the  truly  human  life  of  creative 
activity ;  for  upon  the  thoughtfully  creative  life 
is  bestowed  the  guerdon  of  peace  and  joy. 

My  little  play  of  The  Wheelwright  is  a  means 
towards  this  end.  The  illustration  accompany- 
ing it  is  freighted  with  rich  suggestions.  Every 
essential  use  of  the  wheel,  so  far  as  it  relates  to 
vehicles,  is  indicated,  and  from  the  wheel  of  the 
child's  barrow  we  rise  to  the  wheel  in  the  chariot 
of  the  gods.  Surely  our  artist  wishes  to  impress 
upon  us  the  importance  of  the  wheel  in  all  de- 
partments of  life.  What  would  become  of  the 
human  race,  in  the  stage  of  civilisation  it  has 
now  attained,  if  it  were  forced  to  dispense  with 
the  wheel  ?  Need  we  wonder,  therefore,  that 
everything  in  the  likeness  of  a  wheel  so  attracts 
the  child?* 

A  knowledge  of  the  qualities  and  uses  of  the 
wheel  is  likewise  important  because  of  its  ana- 
logical implications.  It  is  also  well  that  the 
child  should  be  familiar  with  objects  allied  to 
the  wheel  in  form,  such  as  the  hoop,  the  circle, 
the  wreath.  Wishing  to  stir  our  souls  with  some 
sense  of  the  spiritual  significance  of  the  circular 

*  Here  I  omit  a  passage  in  which  Froebel  plays  upon  the  Ger- 
man words  Rad  =  a  wheel  and  Rath,  advice,  contrasting  the  dif- 
ficult motion  which,  in  the  case  of  the  wheel,  is  produced  by  a 
slight  momentum,  with  the  reluctance  of  youth  to  follow  the 
advice  of  maturity,  and  suggesting  that  by  noticing  the  former 
the  child  may  be  incited  to  a  more  ready  compliance  with  the 
latter. 


™r    x 

THE  WHEELWRIGH^p  235 

^ 


form,  our  artist  shows  us  two  boys  who,  bowling 
their  hoops  around  a  circle  in  opposite  directions, 
are  nevertheless  sure  in  the  end  to  come,  though 
perhaps  unexpectedly,  and  even  unwillingly,  to 
the  same  spot.'  Is  he  teaching  us  that  all  the 
different  paths  of  life  are  bent  by  the  Higher 
Power  towards  one  common  goal  ? 

But  why  does  our  picture  point  us  to  the 
mythical  age  of  gods  and  heroes  ?  The  true 
artist  does  nothing  by  chance.  It  seems  to  me 
he  is  trying  to  tell  us  that  by  loyal  attention  and 
response  to  the  hints  thrown  out  by  childhood, 
and  by  an  education  consonant  with  the  needs  of 
childhood,  we  may  revive  the  mythic  period  of 
human  history,  with  its  dross  cleansed,  its  dark- 
ness illumined,  its  aims  and  ideals  purified. 

Shall  we  scorn  the  artist's  fancies  ?  Shall  we 
scout  his  hopes  that  they  may  be  realised  ? 


"Da§  SebeS  feine  Spracfje  frrtcfct, 
o  Ietd>t  bem  ^inte  ntt&t : 
itn«  tetc^t,  rctr  ac^ten 
nicbt, 
8egt,  gltern,  brauf  ba«   recbte 


23G 


XXXVIII. 
THE  JOINER. 

EACH  thing  around  us  speaks 
A  language  all  its  own. 
And  though  we  may  have  grown 
Hardened  and  dull  of  ear, 
The  little  children  hear. 

But,  ah,  they  cannot  know 
How  blest  such  hearing  is, 
Until,  alas,  it  flies  ! 
Then  let  us  help  them  keep 
The  gift  whose  loss  we  weep. 

In  this  game  the  fists,  by  a  sliding  movement 
over  a  flat  surface,  represent  the  act  of  planing. 
The  strokes  should  be  sometimes  long  and  some- 
times short. 

To  what  truths  does  this  simple  game  point  ? 
"What  is  its  inner  sense  ?  What  relationship  has 
it  to  life  ? 

Through  the  play  of  The  Finger  Piano  the 
child's  attention  was  directed  to  the  connection 
between  tone,  movement,  and  number,  or,  in  a 
word,  to  the  characteristic  phenomena  of  sound 
included  under  the  general  form  of  time.  But 
sound  is  connected  also  with  the  phenomena  of 
space,  for  if  any  material  substance  be  stretched 
to  a  great  length  its  tone  is  deep ;  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  if  the  length  stretched  be  short  and 
thin,  the  tone  will  be  high.  The  concepts  long 
and  short  are  therefore  mediatorial  between  the 
phenomena  of  space  and  those  of  time. 
237 


238  MOTHER  PLAY. 

That  these  concepts  have  likewise  important 
bearings  upon  child  life  is  self-evident.  How 
often,  for  example,  must  you  say  to  your  little 
ones :  "  You  may  stay  out  of  doors,  but  not  too 
long."  "  You  must  work  now,  but  only  for  a 
short  time,"  etc. 

As  the  play  of  The  Fishes  gave  you  occasion 
to  suggest  both  the  literal  and  analogical  mean- 
ings of  straight  and  crooked,  so  the  play  of  The 
Joiner  offers  a  point  of  departure  for  the  evolu- 
tion of  the  literal  and  analogical  meanings  of 
long  and  short.  As  the  picture  accompanying  the 
former  play  gave  varied  illustrations  of  straight 
and  crooked,  so  the  picture  of  The  Joiner  gives 
varied  illustrations  of  long  and  short.  It  will  de- 
light your  child  to  seek  these  different  illustra- 
tions and  discover  their  contrasts  and  connections. 

The  goal  of  this  play  is  the  discovery  that 
outward  size  does  not  presuppose  inward  great- 
ness. The  contrast  between  the  great  giant  Go- 
liath and  the  stripling  David  suggests  to  the 
imagination  an  inverse  ratio  between  the  phys- 
ically and  spiritually  great.  Hence  the  former  is 
in  the  child  world  a  comic  character,  while  with 
dear  little  David  each  embryo  hero  feels  the 
keenest  sympathy.* 

*  Froebel  closes  this  commentary  by  quoting  two  lines  of  a 
little  poem  probably  familiar  to  most  of  his  German  readers : 
"  Giant  Goliath  was  once  alive, 
A  very  dangerous  man." 

This  poem  was  written  by  Matthias  Claudius  (1740-1815),  and 
printed  in  the  Wandsbecker  Bote,  a  periodical  published  about  a 
hundred  years  ago  in  Holstein.  (Miss  Lord's  note.) 


XXXIX. 

THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THE  GOOD  CHILD. 

THE  truth  that  no  life  stands  alone, 

Lies  hid  in  baby's  soul ; 
Long  ere  he  learns  its  pain  and  strife, 
He  feels  th'  encircling  touch  of  life, 

And  yields  to  its  control. 

But,  mother,  when  the  love  of  praise 

First  stirs  a  wistful  thought — 
When  disapproval  gives  him  pain — 
His  little  life  has  reached  a  plane 

With  subtlest  danger  fraught. 

Oh,  guide  him  with  a  love  clear-eyed, 

That  he  may  not  confuse 
Merit  with  praise !    Help  him  to  care 
Rather  to  be  than  to  appear, 

E'en  though  the  praise  he  lose.* 

So  shall  the  touch  of  other  lives 

Help  and  uplift  his  own. 
Strong  in  himself  he'll  learn  to  be, 
Yet  glad  that  human  sympathy 

May  bind  all  hearts  in  one. 

Your  child  sits  in  your  lap.  Your  left  arm  is 
thrown  gently  around  him.  The  fingers  of  your 
right  hand  (beginning  with  the  little  finger  and 
going  towards  the  thumb)  trot  or  gallop  one  after 
the  other,  first  towards  the  child  and  then  away 

*  This  stanza  does  not  render  Froebel's  exact  thought.  See 
prose  translation  in  appendix. — FB. 

239 


m  $ic  better  tmb  fca§  qutc  Slinb 


"Sin  fttfleS  Slbnen  liegt  im 

serbcrpen, 
£•3  fleb1  tm  Seben  ntcfet  aflein  ; 
3)rum,  ftefift  Du  e«  aitf  frernbe^ 

Urtf)etl  feor^en, 
2)ann,  gutter!    gilt  e« 

fam  fein. 
2>a$  ^tnb  beainnt  bie  neue  £eben« 

ftufe, 

d>  borcben  fdjon  bem  ec^ten 
ben^rufe  ; 
©orae  nun  fiir  2)em  Ueb 

n  rein, 
fru'b   ni(^t    tru'be    e«    ein 


Sluf  §u§erem  nicf)t  fldjer  rub,en 
bletbe, 

tnnern  SSorjug 
erftreben  tretbe." 


THE  KNIGHTS  AND   THE  GOOD  CHILD.      24:1 

from  him.  These  advancing  and  retiring  fingers 
simulate  the  approach,  arrival,  and  departure  of 
mounted  knights. 

With  this  song  and  those  which  follow  it  we 
rise  to  a  new  and  higher  plane  of  development. 
What  has  hitherto  been  done  to  fashion  the  will 
and  build  the  character  has  been  incidental — as 
it  were,  a  thing  aside.  What  is  now  to  be  done 
must  be  with  clear  intention  and  deliberate  aim. 

The  mounted  knight  expresses  free  self-de- 
termination, free  mastery  of  the  will.  Through 
his  control  of  his  steed  he  also  presents  sym- 
bolically the  mastery  of  the  rude  powers  of  Na- 
ture. Hence,  in  the  prescient  phantasy  of  child- 
hood the  knight  stands  out  a  clear-cut  image  of 
ideal  freedom  and  beauty. 

Since  the  knight  is  thus  in  a  certain  sense  the 
embodied  ideal  of  childhood,  boy  and  girl  alike 
will  value  what  he  values  and  strive  to  be  the 
thing  he  commends.  In  this  relationship  of  child- 
hood to  the  ideal  knight  or  hero  are  rooted  this 
little  play  and  its  two  immediate  successors. 

The  motto  to  this  song  warns  us  that  we  have 
risen  to  a  new  plane  of  development,  and  that 
upon  this  higher  level  we  are  confronted  by  great 
dangers.  The  child  has  discriminated  between 
himself  and  another  [an  ideal  self],  hence  he 
measures,  weighs,  compares.  His  power  of  dis- 
crimination is,  however,  feeble,  therefore  he  is 
prone  to  confound  what  he  may  become  with 
what  he  is,  and  to  believe  himself  already  the 
thing  he  would  like  to  be.  This  confusion  of  the 
ideal  and  the  actual  is  heightened  by  our  own 


242  MOTHER  PLAY. 

thoughtless  folly,  for,  seeing  in  the  child  some 
leaning  towards  the  good,  loving  him  for  some 
budding  promise  of  character,  we  treat  him  as  if 
his  possible  achievement  were  a  present  reality, 
and  thus  feed  his  vanity  and  relax  his  will.  Let 
us  be  clear  with  ourselves  on  this  point,  for  too 
often  our  own  confusion  of  the  real  and  the  po- 
tential works  permanent  injury  to  the  children 
committed  to  our  care. 

Through  the  attitude  of  others  towards  him- 
self the  recognition  of  what  is  good  should  be 
awakened  in  the  child,  and  his  desire  to  be  good 
should  be  strengthened  and  developed.  Evident- 
ly this  result  will  be  attained  only  if  he  under- 
stands that  he  must  be  good  in  order  to  be  re- 
spected and  loved.  Therefore,  mother/  let  your 
behaviour  be  such  that  your  darling  may  early 
realise  that  your  approval  is  given  not  to  his  visi- 
ble, small  person,  nor  to  his  visible  deeds,  but  to 
his  true  self — that  you  care  for  him  for  his  soul's 
sake,  and  that  your  love  is  fed  by  actions  which 
express  his  inner  life  and  aspiration.  Let  him 
understand,  too,  that  you  love  him  not  only  for 
what  he  is,  but  for  what  you  hope  he  will  grow 
to  be,  and  that  whenever  he  lessens  your  hope  he 
attacks  your  affection. 

These  thoughts  seem  to  me  so  important  that 
I  will  restate  them.  When  your  child  begins  to 
be  attentive  to  the  judgment  of  others  concern- 
ing himself,  you  must  solve  a  double  problem. 
First,  you  must  clearly  discriminate  what  he  is 
from  what  he  may  become,  and  through  your 
conduct  towards  him  must  make  him  aware  of 


THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THE  GOOD   CHILD.      243 

this  distinction.  Second,  you  must  clearly  dis- 
criminate between  his  visible  actions  and  their 
inner  grounds  or  motives,  otherwise  you  will  fos- 
ter in  him  a  false  conception  of  his  own  individu- 
ality. The  distinction  of  the  ideal  and  potential 
from  the  real — the  distinction  of  the  inner  motive 
from  the  visible  act — these  are  cardinal  points  of 
the  moral  life.  Upon  his  success  or  failure  to  ap- 
prehend them  it  will  depend  whether  your  child 
lives  and  strives  for  being  or  appearance,  for 
what  is  seen  and  temporal  or  for  what  is  unseen 
and  eternal.  During  the  periods  of  infancy  and 
early  childhood  it  is  in  your  power  to  give  direc- 
tion to  his  aspiration.  The  stream  of  his  life  is 
then  but  a  tiny  rill  whose  channel  may  be  turned 
at  pleasure.  Later  It  will  become  a  flood  whose 
course  is  beyond  all  control. 

One  more  point  must  be  mentioned.  The 
child  is  incited  towards  pursuit  of  the  good,  not 
only  or  even  chiefly  by  the  recognition  accorded 
himself,  but  by  the  respect,  consideration,  and 
honour  shown  to  the  good  in  others.  Every  dis- 
tinction bestowed  upon  another — which  seems  to 
the  child  a  merited  distinction — rouses  him  to 
emulation,  spurs  him  to  effort. 

"  What  was  the  song  that  the  brave  knights  sang  ? 

I  wish  I  could  hear  it  too  1 " 
"Then,  darling,  sit  quietly  here  in  my  lap, 

And  I  will  sing  it  to  you." 


244:  MOTHER  PLAY. 


SON&. 

Come,  children,  and  hear  the  song  that  we  sing — 

The  song  of  a  child  who  is  good ; 
We  saw  him  to-day,  as  we  rode  on  our  way 

Through  valley  and  meadow  and  wood. 

Like  a  flower  in  its  calyx  he  seemed  to  our  eyes, 
As  his  mother's  arms  folded  him  round; 

But  better  by  far  than  a  hundred  flowers  are 
Was  this  good  little  child  that  we  found. 

He  built  us  a  nice  little  house  with  his  blocks; 

He  ran,  with  a  step  strong  and  free, 
To  pick  up  what  fell,  and  restore  it  as  well, 

To  the  owner  whoever  he  be. 

We  thought  that  the  angels  had  taught  him  to  play, 

All  his  plays  were  so  happy  and  true; 
But  we  learned  in  a  while  that  his  dear  mother's  smile 

Was  the  only  angel  he  knew. 

Her  gentle  caresses  were  dearer  to  him 

Than  aught  else  below  or  above, 
And  all  that  he  had  he  was  eager  and  glad 

To  give  her  as  proof  of  his  love. 

No  pleasure  was  full  till  he  shared  it  with  her, 
And  at  last,  when  the  long  day  was  done, 

And  he  sat  on  her  lap,  safe  from  harm  or  mishap, 
He  told  of  his  plays  one  by  one. 

Then  she  sang  to  him  softly  until  his  eyes  closed, 
And  his  pretty  head  sank  on  her  breast ; 

Then  laid  him,  instead,  in  his  own  little  bed, 
As  warm  as  a  bird  in  its  nest. 


THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THE*  GOOD  CHILD.      245 

With  tenderest  touch  the  covers  she  spread, 

And  whispered  a  prayer  the  while. 
No  song  did  we  hear,  but  angels  were  near, 

We  knew  by  the  baby's  sweet  smile. 


"  Oh  the  song  was  so  pretty — but  I  too  am  tired." 
"  Then  lay  your  head  here  on  my  arm 

And  sleep  sweetly,  dear,  for  mamma  is  near, 
To  shelter  her  baby  from  harm."  * 

*  Henrietta  R.  Eliot. 


"25a§  ba3  ©ute  bte  2ftenfcfjett  jte^e, 
Dag  ba«  ©c^Iec^te  ber  ©ute  flief>e : 
bent  $tnb  bte§  frii^  erf^aun, 
un." 


XL. 
THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THE  BAD   CHILD. 

E'EN  as  a  magnet,  goodness  draws  the  good ; 
A  magnet  does  not  plot,  in  scheming  mood  ; 

It  simply  is,  and  so  attracts. 
Oh,  help  your  child  to  feel  this  in  his  heart : 
Evil  repels,  but  goodness  without  art, 

Still,  but  resistless,  like  a  magnet  acts  ! 

On  its  external  side  this  game  resembles  its 
predecessor. 

When  little  children  are  cross  and  sulky  we 
often  try  to  divert  them  by  attracting  their  at- 
tention to  something  that  is  noisy  and  even 
deafening.  This  practice  rarely  attains  its  end. 
Nevertheless,  there  is  an  element  of  truth  in  the 
impulse  out  of  which  it  springs,  and  it  fails  of  its 
end  just  because  it  does  not  clearly  recognise 
this  latent  truth  or  comply  with  its  demands. 

Discontent,  crossness,  and  sulkiness,  when  not 
due  to  bodily  ailment,  are  often  caused  by  some 
excessive  and  one-sided  excitement  of  the  feelings 
— an  excitement  which,  just  because  it  is  one- 
sided, renders  the  child  powerless  to  free  himself 
from  it  by  his  own  effort.  The  little  victim,  who 
cannot  help  himself,  and  who  is  keenly  suffering 
from  his  bad  temper,  needs  all  the  help  a  wise 
and  tender  nurture  can  give.  The  best  way  to 
help  him  is  to  attract  his  glance  quickly  to  some 
247 

>^pE 

f  Of  THE 


24:8  MOTHER  PLAY. 

unexpected  object  whose  appearance  is  likely  to 
allure  and  hold  his  attention.  This  object  should 
not  be  a  noisy  one,  for  noise  will  tend  only  to 
augment  his  nervous  excitement.  It  should, 
however,  be  something  which  is  unexpected,  sur- 
prising, and  impressive.  I  have  seen  little  chil- 
dren, whose  excitement  no  one  could  soothe, 
calmed  at  once  by  being  carried  into  another 
room  and  given  an  unexpected  peep  at  the  moon. 
I  have  seen  the  same  result  produced  in  the  day- 
time, by  carrying  the  overstrained  child  quickly 
out  of  doors  and  attracting  his  attention  to  run- 
ning chickens  or  flying  birds.  The  sight  of  some- 
thing which  unexpectedly  disappears  will  also 
tend  to  distract  the  mind  and  calm  the  nerves. 

The  game  now  offered  to  you  will  attract  your 
child,  because  it  brings  before  him  once  again  the 
knights  who  so  captivate  his  imagination.  The 
unexpected  withdrawal  of  the  knights  will  also 
direct  his  thoughts  into  new  channels. 

Motto  and  song  interpret  each  other.  The 
conclusion  of  the  commentary  on  The  Knights 
and  the  Good  Child  will  also  throw  light  upon 
the  spirit  of  this  little  game. 


XLI. 

THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THE  MOTHER. 

TEACH  your  child  that  every  one 
Loves  him  when  he's  good  and  true ; 

But  that,  though  so  dear  to  others, 
He  is  doubly  dear  to  you. 

So  far  as  the  movements  of  the  fingers  are 
concerned,  this  play  is  identical  with  the  two 
which  precede  it.  In  how  many  ways  your  child 
may  hide  himself — or,  rather,  may  fancy  himself 
hidden — no  one  need  suggest  to  you. 

The  spirit  which  inspires  this  game  is  one  with 
the  spirit  of  the  two  preceding  games,  in  so  far 
as  all  three  relate  to  the  bond  of  union  between 
the  child  and  other  human  beings.  This  new 
game,  however,  penetrates  even  more  deeply  into 
his  inner  life,  since  it  aims  to  make  him  conscious 
of 'the  peculiar  tie  between  his  own  heart  and  the 
heart  of  his  mother. 

It  is  of  the  utmost  importance  alike  to  the 
child  and  to  the  common  life  and  intercourse  of 
mother  and  child  that  the  tie  between  them 
should  be  defined  to  the  consciousness  of  the  lat- 
ter, through  the  same  mediating  symbol  *  which 


*  E.  g.,  The  Play  of  the  Knights. 
18  249 


cn,  ocrftccfc  ^irf>! 


"15a{j  man  ©uteS  mviffe  Wd^rett, 
Sag  aitd)  balb  1)ein  ^inb  erfa^ren  ; 


2)oran  ta^  2)etn  ^tnb  ft$  legen. 


250 


THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THE  MOTHER.          251 

wakens  his  sense  of  the  link  between  himself 
and  human  beings  in  general.  Otherwise  the 
relationship  between  mother  and  child  may  de- 
teriorate into  a  merely  physical  one,  and  this 
is  injurious  to  both,  whether  from  the  point  of 
view  of  bodily  health,  intellectual  growth,  or 
moral  effort. 

Another  thought,  dear  mother,  presses  upon 
our  consideration.  It  has  been  casually  alluded 
to  and  illustrated  in  preceding  plays  and  mot- 
toes. But  if  we  wish  to  be  enlightened  edu- 
cators, we  must  give  it  our  direct  and  full  at- 
tention. The  most  active  and  influential  force 
in  the  education  of  your  children  is  your  own 
true  character.  What  you  really  are  in  your- 
self;  what  you  really  think  about  the  disposi- 
tions, deeds,  and  aims  of  your  children;  what 
you  really  approve  and  condemn;  why  you  ap- 
prove and  why  you  condemn;  what  you  prize 
and  why  you  prize  it ;  how  you  guard  and  cher- 
ish the  things  you  prize — in  a  single  word,  what 
you  show  yourself  to  be  in  yourself,  in  your 
home,  and  to  your  family:  this  is  the  power 
which  will  most  influence  your  children,  and 
that  even  when  they  are  so  small  that  you  may 
imagine  them  incapable  of  understanding  or  even 
feeling  it. 

How  often  is  it  said  that  mother  and  child  are 
all  in  all  to  each  other !  All-in-all !  Mother,  pon- 
der these  words.  Be  all  in  all  to  your  child,  not 
only  in  your  feeling  but  with  insight  and  assured 
deliberate  deed.  Feeling  misunderstood  becomes 
inordinate,  and  overflows  its  protecting  banks. 


252  MOTHER  PLAY. 

Then,  instead  of  a  blessing,  it  becomes  an  injury 
alike  to  mother  and  child.* 


*  Students  of  Froebel  will  observe  that  I  have  omitted  the 
conversation  and  rhyme  which  close  this  commentary.  They 
will  also  observe  that  in  Volume  II  I  give  two  versions  of  the 
song  for  the  child. 

In  the  original  song  the  mother  is  represented  as  hiding  her 
child  from  the  knights,  who  wish  to  carry"  him  away.  This  has 
troubled  the  minds  of  many  kindergartners,  while  by  others  it 
is  believed  to  be  the  one  feature  of  the  game  which  more  than 
any  other  tends  to  strengthen  the  bond  of  union  between  mother 
and  child.  It  has  therefore  seemed  well  to  me  to  give  two  ver- 
sions of  the  song,  and  in  order  to  harmonise  the  commentary 
with  both  versions  to  make  the  omissions  indicated  above. 

The  omitted  conversation  and  poem  are  rendered  as  follows 
in  Miss  Lord's  version  of  the  Mother  Play  : 

"Mother,  why  did  the  knights  want  to  have  the  little 
child?" 

"  Why,  you  see,  because  it  was  a  good,  dear  little  child.  That 
is  why  the  knights  wanted  to  have  it  too ;  only  its  mother  loved 
it  so  much  because  it  was  good,  and  did  not  give  it  to  the 
knights.  She  would  not  even  let  them  see  it  at  all." 

"  And  you,  my  child,  are  very  dear, 

And  very  precious  too ; 
God  sent  indeed  a  treasure  here 

When  his  love  sent  me  you. 
And  if  you're  only  good,  my  pet, 

A  gentle  child,  and  always  kind, 
Your  heart  by  happy  courage  set, 

Gladness  and  merriment  to  lind, 
The  bond  between  us  two  will  stay, 

That  makes  us  love  each  other  so ; 
And  when  the  knights  come  by  this  way, 

And  want  you,  I  shall  say,  '  Oh,  no  ! 
It's  right  to  guard  such  gifts ;  so  ride  away  ! ' " 

•"  I  will  be  good — yes,  mother  dear,  I  want  to  stay  with  you; 
Only  please  love  me  just  as  much,  and  be  good  to  me  too." 


THE   KNIGHTS  AND  THE  MOTHER.          253 

A  slight  alteration  of  the  conversation  will  harmonise  it  with 
the  alternative  version  of  the  song : 

"Mother,  why  did  the  knights  want  to  take  the  child  a- 
ridingf" 

"  Because  he  was  a  dear,  good  little  boy.  That  was  why  his 
mother,  too,  loved  him  so  dearly,  and  could  only  spare  him  to 
the  knights  for  a  little  while." 

Having  referred  several  times  informally  to  Miss  Lord's  ver- 
sion of  Mother  Play,  I  give  here  the  correct  title  of  the  book : 
Mother's  Songs,  Games  and  Stories,  Froebel's  Mutter  und  Kose 
Lieder,  rendered  in  English  by  Frances  and  Emily  Lord. 


SScrflccfen 


,,2Qarum  mag  toofyt  ba3  $tnbdjen  ntetn 
SSerftecfenftriel  fo  fefyr  erfreun  ?  „  — 
"(£$  ift  ba$  ©efuftf  bcr  <perfimlicl)fett, 
2Ba«  je^t  f^on  Dein  ^inb^en  fo  f)0(^  erfreut  : 
©3  ifi  bad  ©efiiW,  ftd)  felbjt  jit  erfennen, 
SBenn  '$  I)oret  feinen  9tamen  nennen  ; 
£>1rum  »enn  jum  SSerftedfptet  2>ein 
^>at  '3  ncite  gntotcfelunggflufe  erret^t. 
S3on  je^t  an  mu§t  2)u  e^  nun  forglid)  b 
2)enn  btefe  ©efu'^Ie  umf^iueben  ©efal)ren.— 
^annft  ©innigfeU  unb  ©itttgfeit 
llnb  fo  Skrtraun  unb  Dffen^eit 
Du  je^t  fcfyon  in  bem  ^inb  erwedten, 
Dajj  fie  bleiben, 
SBurjeln  treiben, 
9Ue  »trb  e«  {e  fein  2;b,utt  »or  Dir  »crfletfen." 


ftc^  netgt. 


£54 


XLII. 
HIDE  AND  SEEK. 

WHY  does  my  little  one  laugh  so,  and  crow 

With  pretty,  exultant  pride, 
When  I  find  him  at  last,  after  feigning  long 

To  look  for  him  far  and  wide  ? 

Ah,  well  may  a  note  of  exulting  be  heard 

In  the  laugh  of  the  sweet  little  elf! 
He  triumphs  not  only  because  he  is  found, 

But  because  he  is  finding  himself. 

He  feels  that  his  being  is  something  apart 
From  the  people  and  things  that  surround ; 

He  knows  who  is  meant  when  his  name  is  called  out ; 
When  he  hides,  that  'tis  he  must  be  found. 

Play  on,  gentle  mother — play  on  with  thy  child, 

But  his  deeper  life  never  forget ; 
He  has  reached  a  new  stage,  with  new  need  of  thy  care 

To  guard  where  new  dangers  beset. 

With  reverent  love  greet  each  wakening  power, 

And  turn  its  glad  eyes  to  the  light ; 
He  hides  now  in  sport,  but  he  never  will  hide 

His  opening  soul  from  thy  sight. 

Is  there  anywhere  a  mother  who  does  not 
know  Hide  and  Seek  ?  Can  there  be  a  mother 
whose  baby  has  not  hidden  himself  on  her  breast, 
beneath  her  arm,  in  her  lap,  under  her  ker- 
chief ?  Hiding,  indeed,  seems  to  have  an  inex- 
haustible charm  alike  for  baby  and  for  his  some- 
what older  brothers  and  sisters,  and  hiding  games 

255 


256  MOTHER  PLAY. 

never  fail  to  arise  in  and  develop  with  child- 
hood. Their  universality  proves  them  to  be 
deeply  rooted  in  human  nature,  and  suggests  that 
they  must  have  significant  recoils  upon  develop- 
ment and  education. 

We  have  recognised  that  the  natural  and 
original  unity  of  feeling  between  mother  and 
child  may  become  inordinate  and  injurious.  But 
if  unity  misunderstood  works  evil,  how  much 
greater  evil  must  spring  from  separation  and 
estrangement  when  these  are  either  half-under- 
stood or  wholly  misinterpreted  ? 

In  view  of  the  dangers  of  estrangement,  is  it 
not  surprising  that  with  unhesitating  instinct 
you  invite  your  darling  to  hide  from  you  ?  Is  it 
not  passing  strange  that  hiding  should  give  him 
delight  ? 

Nay,  mother,  nay!  Well  is  it  for  you,  well 
is  it  for  your  child,  that  the  original  incitement 
to  separation  should  spring  from  your  heart.  All 
giving  is  linked  with  receiving,  or  rather,  let  me 
say,  all  giving  blossoms  out  of  receiving.  This  is 
the  clue  to  your  instinctive  procedure.  Make  it 
clear  to  your  consciousness  that  you  may  justify 
the  promptings  of  your  love,  and  avoid  the  dan- 
gers into  which  all  blind  impulses  are  so  easily 
betrayed. 

You  incite  your  child  to  hide  from  you.  He 
enjoys  hiding  from  you.  It  is  a  keen  excitement 
to  him  to  be  so  concealed  that  for  long  minutes 
you  cannot  see  him  and  are  not  able  to  find  him. 
Herein  undoubtedly  lurks  a  germ  of  danger.  Be- 
ware lest  he  find  such  pleasure  in  concealment 


HIDE   AND  SEEK.  257 

that  he  is  willing  to  hide  longer  and  longer,  and 
that  in  the  end  he  becomes  indifferent  to  being 
found.  Be  watchful  lest  his  impulse  to  hide  him- 
self be  distorted  into  an  impulse  to  hide  his  ac- 
tions. Be  careful,  above  all,  that  the  pure  play 
impulse  of  hiding  be  not  corrupted  by  some 
chance  deed  done  while  hidden ! 

The  possibility  of  such  a  deed  is  the  germ  of 
evil  alluded  to  above ;  for  therein  lurks  the  dan- 
ger that  he  may  begin  to  hide  his  actions,  and 
increasingly  seek  to  conceal  what  he  knows  you 
cannot  approve,  what  he  fears  you  may  condemn 
and  punish. 

I  will  not  torture  your  feelings  by  tracing  in 
detail  the  transition  from  concealment  to  evasion, 
from  evasion  to  distortion  of  facts,  from,  such  dis- 
tortion to  wilful  falsehood.  Kather  will  I  try  to 
answer  the  question  which  is  sounding  in  your 
heart,  and  tell  you  how  you  may  avoid  the  dan- 
gers incident  to  the  play  which  yields  your  child 
such  pure  delight,  and  which  is  so  intimately 
allied  with  his  free  and  joyous  development. 

Ponder  the  game  itself.  Observe  the  child  as 
he  plays  it.  Notice  particularly  how  his  eyes 
sparkle  with  joy  when  he  is  found.  However 
safely  he  hides  himself,  how  still  soever  he  keeps 
while  hidden,  his  one  anxiety  is  that  he  may  be 
found;  the  single  source  of  his  pleasure  is  an- 
ticipation of  the  moment  when  his  hiding  place 
shall  be  discovered. 

But  why,  then,  does  he  hide  at  all  ?  He  might 
lie  unhidden  in  your  arms,  upon  your  knee,  close 
to  your  heart,  and,  looking  into  your  eyes,  see  you 


258  MOTHER  PLAY. 

looking  lovingly  back  at  him.  Does  he  hide 
himself  in  order  to  conceal  himself  from  you  ? 
Does  he  wish  to  be  separated  from  you  ?  God 
forbid!  He  seeks  through  physical  separation 
to  heighten  his  sense  of  spiritual  union.  The 
length  of  time  he  enjoys  being  hidden  measures 
the  rising  tides  of  his  consciousness.  The  delight 
of  finding  you  again,  the  joy  of  being  again 
found  and  seen  by  you,  increase  just  in  propor- 
tion as  his  thought  submerged  in  feeling  rises 
out  of  darkness  into  the  light. 

In  order,  therefore,  to  guard  your  child  from 
the  possibility  of  pleasure  in  concealment,  cher- 
ish his  desire  to  be  found,  heighten  his  joy  in 
reunion.  Then  from  the  point  where  danger 
seemed  to  threaten  will  come  the  help  you  need, 
and  instead  of  sorrow  you  will  win  access  of  joy. 

So  is  it,  so  must  it  always  be,  in  God's  world. 
A  threatening  danger  is  an  offered  help.  The 
longing  for  physical  separation  is  the  mark  of  a 
craving  for  spiritual  union.  Understand  this 
impulse,  and  respond  to  the  need  it  indicates. 
So  shall  you  solve  a  knotty  problem;  so  shall 
you  win  safety,  blessing,  peace,  and  joy. 

The  goal  of  life  is  unity.  The  yearning  for 
estrangement  merely  points  to  the  path  by  which 
unity  may  be  attained. 


XLIII. 

THE  CUCKOO. 

THE  mother  calls  "  Cuckoo  ! "  to  baby  now, 
But  there  shall  come  erelong  another  call, 

Hidden,  yet  near, 
And  oh  so  soft  and  low, 

The  child  must  listen  well  if  he  would  hear! 

At  first  it  seems  a  call  from  other  where, 
But,  heeded  well,  it  enters  the  child's  soul, 

A  dweller  meet ; 
And  ever  thenceforth  there 

Mingles  its  mandates  with  his  heart's  life-beat. 

"But  wherefore,  then,  The  Cuckoo  game?" 
asks  some  one  who  has  never  pondered  the  deep 
meanings  which  lie  hidden  in  childish  play.  Is  it 
not  exactly  like  Hide  and  Seek,  only  that  one 
calls  out  "  Cuckoo  "  to  the  hiding  child  ? 

Consider  the  two  games  carefully,  and  you  will 
see  that,  though  nearly  allied,  they  differ  widely. 
The  Cuckoo  is  an  expansion,  or,  more  precisely,  a 
higher  evolution,  of  Hide  and  Seek,  and  makes  its 
appearance  at  a  later  stage  of  development.  What, 
then,  is  the  difference  between  the  two  plays  ? 
Through  what  contrasting  feature  does  The 
Cuckoo  show  an  advance  upon  its  predecessor  ? 

Observe  each  game  closely,  thoughtful  mother, 
and  you  will  easily  discover  their  differences.  In 
the  one,  separation  and  union  are  thrown  into 
relief  by  contrast,  in  order  that  each  may  be  more 

259 


©ucfgurf! 

"2Ba3  attf  biefer  tfinbesfhtfe 

3ft  bent  $mb  ber  Gutter  ©ucfgucfruf, 
3ft  o«f  f?6t)erer  Gntwicfluitg^ftufe 
S'tnft  bent  ^inb^en  ber  ©ewijfen^ruf  5 
£6rt  ^  ben  leifen  S^Iag, 
%olQt  tym  totflig  nad), 
£a§t  13  fettt  $erjcf>en  ntc^t  allein : 
3rot)Jid)  wtrb  1S  bann  ftets  mit  iljm  betfammen  fctn, 
81*  bae  f^ijnfte 


r?  ^c 


200 


THE  CUCKOO.  261 

consciously  felt ;  in  the  other,  these  contrasts  are 
mediated  by  the  cuckoo  call.  The  salient  charac- 
teristic of  The  Cuckoo  play  is  union  in  separa- 
tion, and  separation  in  union.  In  this  peculiar- 
ity lies  the  secret  of  its  abiding  charm.  Since  the 
consciousness  of  union  in  separation,  and  of  sepa- 
ration (i.  e.,  personality)  in  union,  is  the  root  of 
conscience,  the  child's  delight  in  this  little  game 
shows  us  that  his  spiritual  ear  is  becoming  sensi- 
tive to  her  still  small  voice. 

Well  for  the  child,  well  for  the  man,  to  whom 
throughout  life  the  voice  of  conscience  is  the 
prophecy  and  pledge  of  an  abiding  union  with 
God! 

Above  the  heads  of  the  mother  and  children 
in  our  picture  the  sun  is  rising.  Is  our  artist 
hinting  to  us  the  rise  of  that  great  spiritual  Sun 
in  whose  light  they  shall  learn  their  abiding  dis- 
tinction and  their  indissoluble  union  ? 

"  What  is  it,  mother,  sometimes  speaks  to  me, 
Like  something  dear  and  sweet  I  cannot  see  ? 
That  seems  to  smile  when  I  am  all  alone, 
With  love  as  kind  and  gentle  as  your  own." 

"  Child,  when  your  mother's  face  you  cannot  see, 
There  is  a  loving  presence  still  with  thee ; 
And  when  your  mother's  voice  you  cannot  hear, 
There  still  is  something  whispering  in  your  ear : 
'  Be  good,  be  glad,  be  thankful  for  the  love 
That  never  leaves,  but  smiles  from  heaven  above !' 
Within  thy  heart  abides  that  presence  bright, 
The  gift  of  God  to  guide  my  child  aright."  * 

*  Emily  Huntington  Miller. 


erfrewn  beS 
tnann$  ©aben, 
Sim  ^tnbe  btc  2JJutter 


XLIV. 

THE  TOYMAN  AND  THE  MAIDEN. 

THE  child,  with  prescience  of  life's  complex  joys, 
Looks  with  delight  upon  the  shopman's  toys. 
The  mother,  in  whose  heart  those  joys  have  smiled, 
With  present  gladness  looks  upon  her  child. 

THE  TOYMAN  AND   THE   BOY. 

THE  toyman  spreads  his  wares  with  skilful  hand, 
"While  in  the  boy's  mind,  all  unhid,  arise 

Vague  stirrings  which  he  cannot  understand — 

Strange  newborn  yearnings  towards  life's  great  emprise ; 

Yearnings  which,  wisely  trained,  will  grow  at  length 

To  motive  power,  still  strengthening  with  his  strength. 

The  position  of  the  hands  in  these  little  plays 
is  simple  and  familiar.  It  is  likewise  clearly 
shown  in  the  picture  of  The  Toyman  and  the 
Boy.  The  middle  and  ring  fingers  of  each  hand 
touching  at  their  tips  represent  the  toyshop.  The 
forefingers  lying  one  above  the  other  suggest  a 
counter.  The  two  little  fingers  are  salesmen 
standing  behind  the  counter;  the  two  thumbs 
are  buyers  standing  before  it.  These  buyers  are, 
in  one  case,  a  mother  and  daughter ;  in  the  other, 
a  father  and  son. 

The  mart  of  life  has  its  claims  and  its  lessons. 
When  either  a  child  or  a  man  has  become  in- 
263 


Sfaufmcmn  mtb  fcct  Slnabe. 

"3)te  $anb  ben  $aufmanit  jetgt  getoanbt ; 
fiet^t  jtel)t  ba«  £tnb  aud)  btefe  ^anb, 
SBenn  fte  frii{)  lenft  mtt  Siebe«ftnn 
2)a3  Sinbcben  f^on  jum  ©uten  ^tn." 


THE  TOYMAN  AND  THE   MAIDEN.  265 

wardly  clear  to  himself,  and  has  gained  the  mas- 
tery over  himself,  he  may  go  to  this  mart  with 
pleasure  and  profit.  There  he  will  find  hundreds 
of  things  to  be  set  not  only  in  physical  but  in 
spiritual  relations  to  himself  and  to  others.  In 
the  needs  of  man  revealed  by  the  products  of  man 
he  may  behold  human  nature  and  human  life  re- 
flected as  in  a  mirror.  Gazing  into  this  mirror, 
he  will  learn  to  recognise  his  own  genuine  needs, 
and  grow  able  to  choose  for  himself  both  the 
things  which  are  outwardly  useful  and  those 
which  will  edify  and  gladden  his  soul.  Frequent- 
ing thus  the  great  mart  of  life,  he  wins  from  it  a 
really  pious  joy. 

Such  a  joy  the  child  is  blindly  seeking  when 
he  longs  to  go  to  the  market  and  the  shop.  He 
feels  its  premonitory  thrill  as  he  gazes  at  the 
motley  stalls  of  the  one  and  the  brilliant  counters 
of  the  other. 

In  the  rich  mart  of  life  each  person  may  choose 
for  himself  useful  and  beautiful  things.  Special 
choices  will  be  determined  by  age,  sex,  and  voca- 
tion. The  little  girl,  the  maiden,  the  mother,  the 
housewife,  will  desire  things  which  serve  and 
adorn  the  home — things  which  lighten  the  duties 
and  augment  the  charm  of  family  life.  The  boy, 
the  youth,  the  man,  the  father,  will  wish  to  pro- 
tect his  home,  and  his  choices  will  be  influenced 
by  this  desire.  The  woman  will  prefer  beautiful 
things ;  the  man  strong  things.  Blending  in  har- 
monious union,  the  strong  and  the  beautiful  pro- 
duce the  good.  Understanding  that  they  comple- 
ment each  other,  man  and  woman  are  transfigured 
19 


266  MOTHER  PLAY. 

from  external  counterparts  into  a  spiritual  unity, 
and  with  their  mutual  recognition  life  becomes 
one,  whole,  complete. 

A  prescient  feeling  of  the  inner  in  the  outer ; 
of  similarity  in  distinction ;  of  unity  in  the  mani- 
fold ;  of  the  universal  in  the  particular — such  is 
the  impulsive  power  which  drives  the  child  to 
the  market  and  the  shop.  He  longs  to  look  at 
life  in  a  mirror,  to  find  himself  through  looking, 
and  to  win  from  this  rich  experience  the  power 
and  the  means  of  embodying  his  own  deep  self- 
hood. 

Hence  your  child,  if  he  be  truly  childlike,  will 
not  crave  physical  possession  of  all  the  things  he 
sees.  His  heart's  desire  will  be  fully  satisfied  by  a 
doll  or  a  cart,  a  whistle  or  a  sheep,  provided  only 
that  in  and  through  his  toy  he  finds  and  repre- 
sents himself  and  his  little  world. 


XLV. 

THE  CHURCH. 

WHEN  to  the  church  a  little  child  is  brought, 

Its  sacred  service  stirs  within  his  thought 

Strange  yearnings — dim,  but  with  deep  meaning  fraught. 

He  sees  unnumbered  heads,  all  bowed  in  prayer, 
Asking  one  Father's  guidance,  help,  and  care, 
While  all  the  words  of  one  petition  share. 

And  when  the  organ's  deep,  melodious  tone 
Preludes  some  hymn  by  all  long  loved  and  known, 
He  hears  unnumbered  voices  rise  as  one. 

The  meaning  of  it  all  he  can  not  tell, 

And  yet  the  praying  throng,  the  hymn's  rich  swell, 

Hold  him  as  in  a  sweetly  solemn  spell. 

Seize  the  swift  mood,  dear  mother,  that  its  glow 
May  warm  the  seed  of  truth  which  you  would  sow  ; 
Thus  planted  in  his  life,  'twill  root  and  grow. 

For  even  as  one  mastering  thought  can  thrill 
A  thousand  differing  minds  and  hearts  until 
They  move  with  one  desire,  have  but  one  will : 

So  in  each  life  one  consecrated  aim, 

One  high  endeavour,  like  a  chemist's  flame, 

Melts  and  reshapes  each  lesser  thought  or  claim. 

But,  ah  !  this  truth  you  must  yourself  first  prove 
Ere  you  can  teach  it  to  the  child  you  love. 
Once  learned,  he'll  value  it  all  else  above. 

Think  not  that  he  is  all  too  young  to  teach  : 
His  little  heart  will  like  a  magnet  reach 
And  touch  the  truth  for  which  you  find  no  speech. 
267 


Kfrd)cnthiir  mit  flfenfttt 


,,9Bo  fid)  gtnflang 
in   ber 


2Boeritt®eftaltunb 

2;6nen  fpridU, 
Da    fid>    fru'f)    be« 
©inn 


ju  ^flegen,  (£1= 
tern,  faumct  nttfct  : 
Capt  sor  bittern  friib  ta^  ^iucd)en  obnen, 
Di§  ctn  b6<^fte«  Strebcn  alle  chit 
fritfe  anjubabiun, 

,  »te 
2)o*  mu§  defer  Stun  felbft  in  gud)  Men, 

tn,  son  Slttem,  was  5^r  tf'iit; 
*  fiibt  3br  fo  bem  iiin!? 
@«bu|eno  nun  e^  in  fid)  fetbcr  rl!^t.  — 
?i'd)ta  ift  mehr  im  ©tanb,  e«  ibm  jn  raittcn, 

ein*  tft  '3  tm  ®emutb  unb  (ijetft. 
a't  bem  ^in?e,  @Uern  !  fold)en 
<£$  @ud)  turd)  fetn  flange*  Seben  prcift. 
SDteinet  ntd)t,  ba^u  Wl  nod)  ^u  Heine, 
gin  3Jl.ignct  im  fteinflen  ^inbe  lieflt, 
2)er  i()m  j^ci^t,  roo  2eben*etn1gung  etne, 
Unb  audi  roelcfyer  ©iun  burd)  £rennung 
truat." 


2G8 


THE  CHURCH.  269 

Already  Nature  has  your  task  begun, 
For  see  how  discord  even  now  he'll  shun, 
But  love  to  stay  where  all  things  are  at  one. 

If  you  would  bind  your  little  one  to  you, 
Bind  your  own  soul  to  all  that's  high  and  true, 
And  let  its  light  shine  clear  through  all  you  do. 

The  forearms  held  in  a  vertical  position  repre- 
sent doorposts.  The  hands  bent  towards  each 
other  make  the  arch  of  the  door.  The  four  fin- 
gers of  one  hand  spread  out  over  the  four  fingers 
of  the  other  hand  suggest  a  window  over  the 
door.  The  thumbs  stand  above  like  little  belfries. 

All  free  expressions  of  child  life  are  symbolic 
and  point  to  an  inward  ground.  Hence  their 
spiritual  magnetism  and  charm. 

Dimly  and  unconsciously  the  child  feels  the 
unity  of  life.  Because  his  feeling  is  blind  he 
often  misunderstands  it.  Because  it  is  living,  he 
rejoices  in  all  its  outward  incarnations.  This  is 
the  reason  why,  at  the  stage  of  development  de- 
scribed in  my  commentary  on  The  Toyman,  he 
delights  to  frequent  the  places  where  men  meet 
together  and  take  counsel  with  each,  other. 

In  all  families  where  churchgoing  has  any 
real  meaning,  stands  in  any  real  relation  to  cor- 
porate and  individual  life,  the  children  are  anx- 
ious to  go  to  church,  and  count  an  occasional 
participation  in  its  services  a  great  privilege  and 
joy.  This  joy,  in  the  first  instance,  springs  not 
from  any  understanding  of  w^hat  is  said  or  sung, 
but  from  the  simple  fact  that  with  inner  col- 
lectediiess  and  devotion  all  the  worshipping  con- 
gregation sing  the  same  hymns,  unite  in  the 


270  MOTHER  PLAY. 

same  prayers.  The  child  knows  that  a  common 
thought  is  stirring  many  minds,  a  common  feel- 
ing throbbing  in  many  hearts.  By  this  recogni- 
tion his  own  presentiment  of  the  unity  and  har- 
mony of  life  is  fed  and  strengthened.  Hence  his 
joy  in  churchgoing. 

But  a  time  will  come  when  he  will  ask  what 
mean  the  words  which  all  are  saying,  the  songs 
which  all  are  singing.  His  question  must  be 
answered  in  a  way  corresponding  to  the  stage  of 
development  he  has  attained  and  to  the  degree 
and  range  of  his  spiritual  experience.  In  my 
song  of  The  Church  I  have  endeavoured  to  sug- 
gest how  this  may  be  done.  Study  this  song,  and 
you  will  find  that  it  points  to  two  distinct  stages 
of  spiritual  evolution :  a  narrower  and  a  wider,  an 
earlier  and  a  later.  Choose  from  it  what  you 
need  for  your  child.  Develop  its  hints,  follow 
the  path  it  opens.  In  all  that  you  do,  however, 
make  it  your  chief  aim  to  satisfy,  fulfil,  and 
strengthen  the  prophesies  of  the  soul.  So  doing, 
you  will  open  the  child's  inner  ear  to  the  har- 
monies which  sound  through  and  are  echoed 
from  his  heart.  Then  shall  he  learn  to  recog- 
nise these  harmonies  in  Nature  and  in  life,* 


Truth  seek  we  both :  thou,  in  the  world  without  thee  and 

around ; 

I,  in  the  world  within  ;  by  both  alike  may  truth  be  found. 
The  healthy  eye  may  through  the  world  the  great  Creator 

track ; 
The  healthy  heart  is  but  the  glass  that  gives  creation  back." 

SCHILLEE. 


THE  CHURCH.  271 

and  shall  find  at  last  his  own  accord  with  him 
who  is 

"The  life  of  all  life, 
The  light  of  all  light, 
The  love  of  all  love, 
The  good  of  all  good — 
God." 


5>cr  Heine  ;kirf)ncr. 


ba«  flmbd)en  Hetn 
fd)on  Betdjner  fetn. 

gaft  etn  Stilts  erfdjetnt  beS  £mbe«  £raft, 

atttnbeflenS  nod)  imbebeutenb  fletn  ; 
Slber  iocs  ifl  woftl,  ba«  afla>eg  ©rojjcS  fdjafft : 

gtnbeft  e«  im  atlerlleinften  ^tein. 
Slfle«,  aUeg,  rcaS  nur  urn  Did)  Ijer  entfkfyt, 

@ei  ee  ncd)  fo  unermefltd)  grof, 
Slfled  aue  tern  flleinflen  flet«  tjeroor  nut  gc^t. 

2Ba$  fca«  ganje  5HE  Hrgt  in  tern  (£d)o§, 
5tu«  bent,  ©tnnen  laum  3Baf)rnel)mbar'n, 

2>arum  ift  ja  ©ott  fo  gottlid;  gre§ ! 
©treme,  beren  SRaitfdjen  ganj  bctaubt  X>ein  Ofr, 

2Bie  bte  ©onnen  Ijaben  gleidjed  £08: 
SlitS  bem  5Rid)t0  fcersorrtef  ©ctt  fte,  ber  fie  fdjuf ! 

eprad)  @  r  ntd)t :  Set  aud)  tin  ^leinften  trcu  ?  ! 
Unb  2)u  roolltefl  nid)t  tm  ^inb  terfieb.n  ben  SRuf  ? 

SWetnefi  Du,  ba§  1)  i  e  r  eS  anber^  fet  ?  . 
Darum,  GIt;rn,  mad)t  r«  git*  ^itm  tuid^tgftcn  ©cfdjafte, 
ju  pflcgen  Sitrcg  ^tnbesJ  uitfdjemtare  tfroite. 


XLVI. 
THE  LITTLE  ARTIST. 

The  things  a  child  can  make 

May  crude  and  worthless  be ; 
It  is  his  impulse  to  create 

Should  gladden  thec ! 

The  greatest  things  have  grown 

All  slowly  to  their  prime; 
From  least  beginnings,  vaguely  known, 
In  farthest  time. 

The  river,  whose  strong  tide 

No  bridge  may  safely  span, 
Can  be  traced  back  to  the  small  spring 
Where  it  began. 

The  steadfast  earth  we  tread, 

The  moon,  the  stars,  the  sun, 
Were  called  from  nothing  ere  yet  time 
Had  been  begun. 

No — rather  were  they  born 
From  the  enfolding  All, 
Whose  method  only  is  to  bring 

Great  things  from  small. 

His  method,  which  still  reigns 

Through  all  the  wondrous  whole — 
The  outward  universe— the  race, 
Each  human  soul. 

"  Be  faithful  in  the  least ! " 

O  wise,  sweet  words  for  all, 
But  sweetest  on  a  mother's  ear 

They  seem  to  fall— 
273 


274  MOTHER  PLAY. 

Throwing  a  sacred  light 

On  each  weak  putting  forth 
Of  her  child's  soul,  and  giving  it 
Prophetic  worth. 

Your  child  sits,  as  he  so  loves  to  do,  upon  your 
lap.  With  the  index  finger  of  your  right  hand, 
or  with  his  index  finger,  you  draw  in  the  air  out- 
lines suggestive  of  simple  objects.  Such  outlines 
may  also  be  traced  in  sand  spread  out  upon  a 
tray,  or,  again,  when  the  child  is  older,  upon  a 
slate.  Finally,  you  may,  if  you  prefer,  begin  by 
drawing  in  sand,  advance  from  this  to  drawing 
on  the  slate,  and  end  by  describing  outlines  in 
the  air.  Good  reasons  may  be  given  for  pursuing 
either  of  these  plans.  The  tracing  of  outlines  in 
the  air  delights  very  young  children,  because  it 
is  a  definite  and  suggestive  movement. 

In  any  and  all  of  its  forms  drawing  is  pleasing 
to  children.  The  grounds  of  such  pleasure  are 
obvious.  Drawing  attests  the  mind's  creative 
power,  and  offers  a  seemingly  simple  form  for  its 
exertion.  How,  then,  can  it  fail  to  be  delightful, 
especially  upon  the  plane  of  development  to 
which  we  have  now  ascended  ? 

The  child's  mind  has  a  relatively  rich  and  va- 
ried content.  He  has,  moreover,  begun  to  feel 
the  unity  in  manifoldness,  and  through  his  soul 
flit  shadowy  suggestions  of  the  identity  of  all  life. 
In  a  word,  he  bears  within  himself  a  little  world. 
He  must  therefore  strive  in  some  simple  way,  and 
by  the  means  at  his  command,  to  recreate  this 
world. 

Through  drawing,  the  child  advances  from 


THE  LITTLE  ARTIST.  275 

perception  to  picture.  What  he  has  learned  from 
life  he  passes  in  review  before  his  soul.  It  would 
seem  as  if  he  were  trying  to  get  a  survey  of  his 
experience  as  a  whole,  in  order  that  he  may  be 
able  to  understand  its  nature,  discriminate  its 
permanent  and  essential  from  its  accidental  and 
vanishing  elements,  and  thus  learn  to  choose 
what  is  good  and  avoid  what  is  evil. 

Above  all,  however,  drawing,  as  a  creative 
activity,  throws  light  upon  the  being  of  the 
Creator.  He  who  would  know  the  Creator  must 
exercise  his  own  creative  power.  Moreover,  he 
must  exercise  it  consciously  for  the  production 
and  representation  of  the  good.  The  doing  of 
what  is  good  is  the  tie  between  Creator  and 
creature.  To  do  good  with  insight  and  intention 
makes  this  tie  a  conscious  one.  Therein  is  the 
living  union  of  man  and  God — the  union  of  indi- 
viduals with  God — the  union  of  all  humanity 
with  God.  With  this  discovery  we  understand 
at  last  the  point  of  departure  for  all  true  educa- 
tion, and  the  goal  towards  which  it  strives. 


APPENDIX. 


NOTE  I. 
ILLUSTRATED  TITLE-PAGE  (see  page  v). 

SURROUNDED  by  her  children  is  a  mother 
whose  whole  being  is  penetrated  by  a  sense  of 
the  dignity  and  solemnity  of  her  vocation.  In 
her  loyal  and  loving  heart  echo  the  words, 
"  Come,  let  us  live  with  our  children."  Through 
song  she  seeks  to  reach  the  hearts  of  her  little 
ones,  and  to  prepare  them  for  an  all-sided  har- 
mony of  life. 

Attracted  by  this  active  motherliness,  other 
children — the  children,  perhaps,  of  relatives  and 
friends — flock  towards  the  joyous  circle.  Al- 
though sure  of  a  welcome,  they  approach  with 
modest  diffidence;  for  the  spirit  of  harmonious 
development  hovers  over  this  family  group,  and 
in  the  presence  of  such  a  spirit  who  does  not  feel 
shyness  and  reverence  ? 

Those  whose  souls  are  thrilled  by  the  musical 
accord  of  life  will  revere  that  which  is,  will  guard 
that  which  is  possessed,  will  nurture  that  which 
is  in  process  of  becoming.  Hence  the  little  girl 
in  our  picture  is  impelled  to  care  for  the  growing 
plants.  Most  of  all  she  loves  to  water  the  lily, 
the  flower  of  childhood,  the  stainless  type  of 
childhood's  innocence.  The  vigorous  boy,  on 

279 


280  MOTHER  PLAY. 

the  contrary,  is  prompted  by  the  feeling  of  life's 
inner  harmony  to  the  observation  of  activity  and 
growth,  and  his  eager  and  wondering  gaze  is 
fixed  upon  a  bird's  nest,  or  rather  upon  the  fledge- 
lings within  the  nest,  who  are  so  rapidly  gaining 
the  strength  which  shall  enable  them  to  fly  high 
in  the  air. 

The  plays  of  childhood  become  the  realities  of 
later  life.  Our  little  boy  has  grown  into  a  vig- 
orous youth,  our  little  girl  into  a  fair  and  gentle 
maiden.  They  seek  in  Nature  for  an  object  which 
shall  be,  as  it  were,  a  counterpart  to  their  own 
inmost  life.  The  fragrance  of  the  lily  stills 
the  heart-yearning  of  the  youth.  Its  form,  at 
once  strong  and  delicate,  appeals  to  the  sentiment 
of  the  maiden.  The  latter  rests  securely  in  her 
harmoniously  developed  and  still  developing  feel- 
ings ;  the  former  finds  his  support  in  the  intellect, 
whose  strife  and  aspiration  are  for  clearness  of 
vision.  Hence  our  picture  shows  us  the  maiden 
poised  on  the  sphere  which  implicitly  contains 
all  the  archetypes  of  form;  while  the  youth 
stands  upon  the  cube,  which  manifests  with  clear- 
ness the  simple  laws  that  govern  and  determine 
form. 

The  lily,  so  faithfully  tended  by  childish  hands 
has  burst  into  blossoms,  which,  while  clinging  to 
their  stalk,  look  upward  to  the  universal  life- 
giver,  the  sun.  In  like  manner,  out  of  the  lily- 
root  of  childish  mirth  and  innocence  have  blos- 
somed the  love  and  joy  of  souls  aspiring  towards 
the  great  spiritual  Sun,  the  one  source  and  foun- 
tain of  all  spiritual  life. 


NOTE   II.  281 

By  day  and  by  night  Nature  bestows  her  bless- 
ing upon  such  activities  and  upon  such  nurture. 
She  pours  it  down  upon  the  rays  of  the  sun.  She 
sheds  it  from  Ariadne's  crown.  She  says  to  every 
mother,  to  every  woman  who  has  a  motherly 
heart :  "  Meditate  and  educate.  Nurture  the  com- 
ing happy  race.  This  work  you  can  do,  and  you 
alone/7 

The  dwellers  in  heaven  send  their  messenger 
to  bear  to  this  motherly,  child-cherishing,  human- 
ity-nurturing life,  the  olive  branch  of  peace.  The 
Holy  Spirit,  in  the  form  of  a  dove,  hovers  over  it, 
giving  it  highest  consecration.  Out  of  the  clouds 
comes  a  voice :  "  This  is  the  nurture  of  my  chil- 
dren in  the  garden  of  life;  in  it  I  am  well 
pleased." 


NOTE  II  (See  page  22). 

IT  may  help  the  reader  to  catch  the  genetic 
idea  of  the  Mother  Play  if  I  indicate  a  few  stages 
in  the  evolution  of  one  great  insight  from  its  first 
appearance  as  a  typical  fact  in  nursery  rhyme  to 
its  comprehensive  presentation  in  Shakespeare. 
As  the  Mother  Play  is  largely  concerned  with  the 
relationship  between  the  particular  self  and  the 
universal  self,  I  choose  as  my  point  of  departure 
the  mental  perturbations  of  the  little  woman  so 
badly  treated  by  the  peddler  Stout : 

"  There  was  a  little  woman,  as  IVe  heard  tell, 
She  went  to  market  her  eggs  for  to  sell : 
20 


282  MOTHER  PLAY. 

She  went  to  market  all  on  a  market  day, 
And  she  fell  asleep  on  the  king's  highway. 

"  There  came  a  little  peddler,  his  name  was  Stout; 
He  cut  off  her  petticoats  round  about ; 
He  cut  off  her  petticoats  up  to  her  knees, 
And  the  poor  little  woman  began  for  to  freeze. 

u  She  began  to  shiver,  and  she  began  to  cry  ; 
4  Lawk-a-mercy  on  me !  sure  it  isn't  I ! 
But  if  it  be  I,  as  I  think  it  ought  to  be, 
I've  got  a  little  dog  at  home,  and  he  knows  me ! " 

The  psychologic  point  of  the  rhyme  is  given 
in  the  closing  lines.  The  little  old  woman  de- 
pends upon  the  recognition  of  her  dog  to  be  sure 
she  is  herself.  This  is,  of  course,  the  mere  in- 
articulate babble  of  infant  reason.  In  Grimm's 
story  of  Clever  Alice  we  hear  her  childish  lisp. 
Hans  and  Alice  had  been  married  some  time; 
then,  one  morning,  Hans  said : 

"  Wife,  I  will  go  out  to  work  and  earn  some 
money ;  do  you  go  into  the  field  and  gather  some 
corn  wherewith  to  make  bread." 

"  Yes,"  she  answered, "  I  will  do  so,  dear  Hans." 
And  when  he  was  gone,  she  cooked  herself  a  nice 
mess  of  pottage  to  take  with  her.  As  she  came 
to  the  field,  she  said  to  herself:  "What  shall  I  do  ? 
Shall  I  cut  first,  or  eat  first  ?  Ay,  I  will  eat  first." 
Then  she  ate  up  the  contents  of  her  pot,  and  when 
it  was  finished  she  thought  to  herself:  "Now, 
shall  I  reap  first,  or  sleep  first  ?  Well,  I  think  I 
will  have  a  nap."  And  so  she  laid  herself  down 
among  the  corn  and  went  to  sleep.  Meanwhile 
Hans  returned  home,  but  Alice  did. not  come,  and 


NOTE  II.  283 

so  he  said :  "  Oh,  what  a  prudent  Alice  I  have ! 
she  is  so  industrious  that  she  does  not  even  come 
home  to  eat  anything."  By-and-bye,  however, 
evening  came  on  and  still  she  did  not  return ;  so 
Hans  went  out  to  see  how  much  she  had  reaped  ; 
but,  behold,  nothing  at  all,  and  there  lay  Alice 
fast  asleep  among  the  corn.  So  home  he  ran  very 
fast,  and  brought  a  net  with  little  bells  hanging 
on  it,  which  he  threw  over  her  head  while  she 
still  slept  on.  When  he  had  done  this  he  went 
back  again  and  shut  to  the  house  door,  and,  seat- 
ing himself  on  his  stool,  began  working  very  in- 
dustriously. 

At  last,  when  it  was  quite  dark,  the  Clever 
Alice  awoke,  and  as  soon  as  she  stood  up  the  net 
fell  all  over  her  hair  and  the  bells  jingled  at 
every  step  she  took.  This  frightened  her,  and 
she  began  to  doubt  whether  she  were  really  Clever 
Alice,  and  said  to  herself,  "  Am  I  she,  or  am  I 
not  ?  "  This  question  she  could  not  answer,  and 
she  stood  still  a  long  while  considering.  At  last 
she  thought  she  would  go  home  and  ask  if  she 
were  really  herself,  supposing  they  would  be  able 
to  tell.  When  she  came  to  the  house  door  it  was 
shut,  so  she  tapped  at  the  window,  and  asked, 
"Hans,  is  Alice  within?"  "Yes,"  he  replied, 
"  she  is."  Now  she  was  really  terrified,  and  ex- 
claiming, "Ah,  heaven,  then  I  am  not  Alice ! "  she 
ran  up  to  another  house ;  T5ut  as  soon  as  the  folks 
within  heard  the  jingling  of  the  bells  they  would 
not  open  their  doors,  and  so  nobody  would  receive 
her.  Then  she  ran  straight  away  from  the  village, 
and  no  one  has  ever  seen  her  since. 


284:  MOTHER  PLAY. 

In  the  Hitopadesa  the  truth  implicit  in  these 
two  stories  rises  into  somewhat  clearer  conscious- 
ness. 

"  A  Brahman,  who  had  vowed  a  sacrifice,  went 
to  market  to  buy  a  goat.  Three  thieves  saw  him, 
and  wanted  to  get  hold  of  the  goat.  They  sta- 
tioned themselves  at  intervals  on  the  high  road. 
When  the  Brahman,  who  carried  the  goat  on  his 
back,  approached  the  first  thief,  the  thief  said, 
'Brahman,  why  do  you  carry  a  dog  on  your 
back  ? '  The  Brahman  replied, '  It  is  not  a  dog, 
it  is  a  goat/  A  little  while  after,  he  was  accosted 
by  the  second  thief,  who  said, '  Brahman,  why  do 
you  carry  a  dog  on  your  back  ? '  The  Brahman 
felt  perplexed,  put  the  goat  down,  examined  it, 
took  it  up  again,  and  walked  on.  Soon  after,  he 
was  stopped  by  the  third  thief,  who  said, '  Brah- 
man, why  do  you  carry  a  dog  on  your  back  ? ' 
Then  the  Brahman  was  frightened,  threw  down 
the  goat,  and  walked  home  to  perform  his  ablu- 
tions for  having  touched  an  unclean  animal.  The 
thieves  took  the  goat  and  ate  it."  * 

Readers  of  the  Arabian  Nights  will  recall  the 
story  of  Abou  Hassan,  the  young  spendthrift  of 
Bagdad,  who  was  conveyed  in  his  sleep  to  the 
palace  of  Haroun-Al-Raschid,  and  by  the  honours 
shown  him  on  waking  made  to  believe  himself 
Sultan.  Many  analogous  tales  may  be  found 
both  in  Oriental  and  Occidental  literature,  but  it 
is  needless  to  multiply  illustrations,  and  I  will 
only  remind  my  readers  of  the  scene  in  the  Tam- 

*  Cited  in  Myths  and  Myth  Makers.    John  Fiske. 


NOTE   II.  285 

ing  of  the  Shrew,  wherein  Christopher  Sly,  the 
drunken  tinker,  wakes  to  find  himself  trans- 
formed into  a  lord  (Act  I,  Scene  2). 

The  presupposition  latent  in  all  these  stories 
is  that  the  individual  cannot  know  anything, 
least  of  all  himself,  until  such  knowledge  is  re- 
flected to  him  from  others.  In  Troilus  and  Cres- 
sida  this  psychologic  truth  finds  explicit  state- 
ment. Achilles  has  quarrelled  with  Agamemnon 
and  deserted  the  cause  of  his  people.  Ulysses 
suggests  that  while  he  stands  in  the  entrance  to 
his  tent  general  and  princes  shall  "  pass  strange- 
ly by  him,  as  if  he  were  forgot/7  He  himself  will 
come  last  and  medicine  his  pride.  The  plan  is 
carried  out,  and  the  following  conversation  takes 
place  between  Ulysses  and  Achilles : 

Achilles.  How  now,  Ulysses? 

Ulysses.  Now,  great  Thetis'  son ! 

Achil.  What  are  you  reading  ? 

Ulyss.  A  strange  fellow  here 

Writes  me,  that  man,  how  dearly  ever  parted, 
How  much  in  having,  or  without,  or  in, 
Cannot  make  boast  to  have  that  which  he  hath, 
Nor  feels  not  what  he  owes  but  by  reflection ; 
As  when  his  virtues  shining  upon  others 
Heat  them,  and  they  retort  that  heat  again 
To  the  first  giver. 

Achil .  This  is  not  strange,  Ulysses. 

The  beauty  that  is  borne  here  in  the  face 
The  bearer  knows  not,  but  commends  itself 
To  others'  eyes ;  nor  doth  the  eye  itself — 
That  most  pure  spirit  of  sense — behold  itself, 
Not  going  from  itself ;  but  eye  to  eye  opposed 
Salutes  each  other  with  each  other's  form. 


286  MOTHER  PLAY. 

For  speculation  turns  not  to  itself, 

Till  it  hath  travelled,  and  is  arrived  there 

Where  it  may  see  itself.     This  is  not  strange  at  all. 

Ulyss.  I  do  not  strain  at  the  position, 
It  is  familiar ;  but  at  the  author's  drift ; 
Who,  in  his  circumstance,  expressly  proves, 
That  no  man  is  the  lord  of  anything 
(Though  in  and  of  him  there  be  much  consisting) 
Till  he  communicate  his  parts  to  others: 
Nor  doth  he  of  himself  know  them  for  aught 
Till  he  behold  them  formed  in  the  applause 
Where  they  are  extended;  which,  like  an  arch,  rever- 
berates 

The  voice  again;  or,  like  a  gate  of  steel 
Fronting  the  sun,  receives  and  renders  back 
His  figure  and  his  heat." 

Troilus  and  Cressida,  Act  III,  Scene  3. 

In  this  marvellous  statement  the  truth  that 
man  knows  himself  through  others  is  comple- 
mented by  the  truth  that  he  must  communicate 
himself  to  others.  The  individual  lives  in  and 
through  his  relations  with  other  individuals. 
Man  is  husband,  father,  son,  brother,  friend,  an 
actor  in  the  realm  of  civil  society,  a  patriot,  the 
hero  of  a  great  cause,  the  member  of  a  universal 
society.  Inner  life  is  created  and  maintained  by 
outer  life,  and  isolating  himself  from  his  spiritual 
environment,  the  human  being  ceases  to  exist. 
Hence  altruism  is  the  principle  of  spiritual  life, 
and  the  shallowest  and  vainest  of  all  self -deceiv- 
ers are  those  who  fondly  hug  the  delusion  that 
their  "  inner  life  "  is  higher  and  better  than  their 
deeds.  He  who  loves  no  one  is  not  loving.  He 
who  is  loved  by  no  one  is  not  lovable.  He  who 


NOTE  III.  287 

gives  nothing  is  not  generous.  He  who  is  con- 
stantly protecting  himself  against  others  cannot 
be  helper  or  hero.* 


NOTE   III  (See  page  24). 

IN  an  autobiographical  letter  to  the  Duke  of 
Meiiiingen,  Froebel  gives  an  account  of  his  first 
day  at  school,  and  the  impression  it  left  upon  his 
mind.  This  record  of  his  own  experience  stands 
in  such  vital  relation  to  what  he  has  attempted 
to  do  for  childhood  that,  despite  the  fact  that  it 
must  be  familiar  to  many  of  my  readers,  I  ven- 
ture to  quote  it  in  full : 

"At  the  time  of  my  childhood,  church  and 
school  generally  stood  in  strict  mutual  relation- 
ship. .  .  .  The  school  children  had  their  special 
places  in  church,  and  not  only  were  they  obliged 
to  attend  church,  but  each  child  had  to  repeat  to 
the  teacher,  at  a  special  class  held  for  the  pu/pose 
every  Monday,  some  passage  of  Scripture  used 
by  the  minister  in  his  sermon  of  the  day  before, 
as  a  proof  of  attention  to  the  service.  From  these 
passages,  that  one  which  seemed  most  suitable  to 
children  was  then  chosen  for  the  little  ones  to 
master,  or  to  learn  by  heart,  and  for  that  purpose 
one  of  the  older  children  had  during  the  whole 
week,  at  certain  times  each  day,  to  repeat  the 

*  See  Mr.  D.  J.  Snider's  Shakespearean  Drama.    A  Com- 
mentary Histories,  pp.  77-80. 


288  MOTHER  PLAY. 

passage  to  the  little  children,  sentence  by  sen- 
tence. The  little  ones,  all  standing  up,  had  then 
to  repeat  the  text,  sentence  by  sentence,  in  like 
manner,  until  it  was  thoroughly  imprinted  on 
their  memories. 

"  I  came  into  school  on  a  Monday.  The  pas- 
sage chosen  for  that  week  was,  '  Seek  ye  first  the 
Kingdom  of  God/  I  heard  these  words  every 
day,  in  the  calm,  serious,  somewhat  sing-song 
voices  of  the  children,  sometimes  repeated  by  one 
child,  sometimes  by  the  whole  number.  And  the 
text  made  an  impression  upon  me,  such  as  none 
had  ever  done  before,  and  none  ever  did  after. 
Indeed,  this  impression  was  so  vigorous  and  per- 
manent that  to  this  day  every  word  spoken  with 
the  special  tone  and  expression  then  given  to  it  is 
still  vivid  in  my  mind.  And  yet  that  is  now 
nearly  forty  years  ago !  Perhaps,  even  then,  the 
simple  boy's  heart  felt  that  these  words  would  be 
the  foundation  and  the  salvation  of  his  life, 
bringing  to  him  that  conviction  which  was  to 
become  later  on  to  the  working  and  striving  man 
a  source  of  unconquerable  courage,  of  unflinch- 
ing, ever-ready,  and  cheerful  self-sacrifice.  In 
short,  my  introduction  into  that  school  was  the 
birth  of  my  higher  spiritual  life."  * 

Froebel  was  of  an  introspective  nature,  and 
seems  to  have  been  more  than  usually  conscious 
of  the  fertilising  experiences  of  his  life.  The 
hazelnut  blossom,  from  which,  in  early  child- 

*  Autobiography  of  Friedrich  Froebel,    translated    by  E. 
Michaelis  and  H.  Keatley  Moore,  p.  82. 


NOTE  III.  289 

hood,  he  gained  his  first  presentiment  of  the 
import  of  sex;  the  tiny  unnamed  floweret  into 
whose  heart  he  peered  with  a  haunting  sense  of 
the  mystery  of  development ;  the  story  of  Samuel 
Lawill,  whose  magic  ring  apprised  him  by  a  prick 
that  he  was  doing  wrong ;  a  theological  discussion 
between  his  rigidly  orthodox  father  and  a  brother 
inclined  towards  speculation  which  first  wakened 
in  his  consciousness  an  idea  of  the  pendulum-like 
vibration  of  thought ;  a  table  showing  the  rela- 
tionship between  different  alphabets  and  their 
derivation  from  old  Phoenician  characters,  which 
astounded  him  with  its  suggestion  of  unity  under 
variety;  Winckelmann's  Letters,  which  roused 
his  feeling  for  art ;  and  an  abridged  translation 
of  the  Zend-Avesta,  which  opened  his  eyes  to  the 
historic  evolution  of  religion — are  all  mentioned 
by  him  with  full  recognition  of  their  influence 
upon  his  thought  and  character. 

His  ideal  of  education  is  to  fertilise  the  seeds 
of  thought  which  are  indigenous  to  the  soil  of 
the  mind,  and  when  they  begin  to  grow  to  supply 
them  with  nourishment  of  the  right  kind  and  in 
the  right  amount. 

He  shows  his  wisdom  by  presenting  truth  in 
aesthetic  forms,  which  allure  the  imagination  and 
rouse  no  antagonism  by  direct  effort  to  coerce  the 
will. 


290  MOTHER  PLAY. 


NOTE   IV  (See  page  32). 

SINCE  the  publication  in  1890  of  M.  Tarde's 
book  Les  Lois  de  Limitation  there  has  been  an 
observable  tendency  to  define  all  the  phenomena 
of  mind  in  terms  of  this  once  despised  faculty. 
As  Dr.  Harris  has  pointed  out,*  such  definitions 
are  fruitful  and  suggestive,  because  they  throw 
into  relief  a  real  continuity  of  function.  It  is 
better,  however,  to  define  imitation  as  an  initial 
form  of  reflection  f  than  to  define  reflection  as  a 
higher  potency  of  imitation.  In  general,  lower 
activities  should  be  defined  by  higher,  and  not 
higher  activities  by  lower.  The  heresy  underly- 
ing atomic  theories  is  the  outcome  of  an  attempt 
to  explain  all  things  from  the  point  of  view  of 
sense-perception,  which  attributes  self-existence 
and  independence  to  finite  and  dependent  objects. 
The  heresy  underlying  the  presentation  of  spir- 
itual relationships  under  images  borrowed  from 
vital  organisms  is  the  result  of  looking  at  all 
things  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  understand- 
ing, which,  while  perceiving  universal  relativity, 
does  not  perceive  that  this  implies  self-relation. 
The  attempt  to  explain  all  mental  phenomena  as 
forms  of  imitation  is  interesting,  because  it  points 
to  the  infinite  self-communication  of  the  divine 
mind  as  the  final  explanation  of  the  universe.  J 

*  See  his  article  on  The  Imitative  Faculty  in  Education. 
New  York  Independent,  August  2,  1894. 

f  Using  reflection  in  the  sense  of  mirroring. 

\  See  Educational  Psychology,  Dr.  Harris,  pp.  11-16. 


NOTE  V.  201 

The  most  illuminating  passage  in  Les  Lois  de 
Limitation  is  in  a  note  on  page  397,  which  may 
be  translated  as  follows : 

"  To  confess  my  deepest  thought  with  regard 
to  the  unknown  and  unknowable  source  of  uni- 
versal repetitions  (or  imitations)  I  must  admit 
that  an  infinite  ambition  does  not  suffice  to  ac- 
count for  them.  There  are  days  when  another 
explanation  hovers  before  my  mind.  I  suspect 
that  the  delight  in  indefinite  and  indefatigable 
self-repetition  may  be  a  sign  of  love — for  in  life 
and  in  art  the  characteristic  mark  of  love  is  to 
repeat  forever  the  same  thing,  to  depict  again 
and  again  the  same  subject.  Then  I  ask  myself 
if  the  universe,  which  seems  to  delight  in  monot- 
onous repetitions — does  not  reveal  thereby  rather 
an  infinite  heart  of  love  than  an  infinite  ambition. 
I  cannot  avoid  the  conjecture  that  all  things,  not- 
withstanding their  warfare  with  each  other,  have 
been  created  con  amore,  and  that  thereby  alone 
can  we  explain  the  beauty  which  subsists,  despite 
evil  and  pain." 


NOTE  V. 

PROSE  TRANSLATION  OF  FROEBEDS  MOTTOES. 
PLAY  WITH  THE  LIMBS. 

When  the  child  amuses  himself  by  striking 
out  with  his  arms  and  legs  the  impulse  to  play 
with  him  stirs  in  the  mother. 

This  impulse  is  bestowed  upon  her  by  the 
Creator.  It  hints  to  her  how  through  the  outer 


292  MOTHER  PLAY. 

she  may  nurture  the  inner  life — how  through 
play  and  playful  tricks  she  may  awaken  feelings, 
presentiments,  and  yearnings. 

FALLING!  FALLING! 

In  each  instinctive  mother  play  there  lurks  a 
deep  unconscious  thought. 

Even  so  simple  a  game  as  Falling!  Falling! 
has  a  profound  motive. 

Always  and  through  all  she  does,  the  mother 
strives  to  nurture  the  child's  intellect  and  aug- 
ment his  force.  She  wishes  to  make  him  both 
strong  and  vigilant,  so  that  when  he  begins  to 
stand,  walk,  and  run  he  may  know  how  to  avoid 
a  fall. 

WEATHER-VANE. 

Do  you  desire  that  your  child  shall  understand 
another's  deed  ?  Then  let  him  do  a  similar  deed. 

Herein  is  grounded  his  desire  to  imitate  the 
activities  of  persons  and  things  about  him. 

ALL  GONE. 

How  does  the  baby  explain  to  himself  All 
gone? 

Some  meaning  he  must  find  therein,  or  it 
would  not  attract  him. 

What  he  just  saw  he  sees  no  more  ;  what  was 
above  is  below ;  what  was  before  him  has  disap- 
peared. 

Where  has  it  gone  ? 

Some  one  has  taken  it. 

See,  one  thing  is  in  both. 

Therefore  is  the  child  content. 


NOTE  V.  293 

TASTE  SONG. 

Through  the  senses  Nature  speaks  clearly  to 
the  child. 

Mother,  see  to  it  that  he  finds  the  latter  (Na- 
ture) through  the  former  (the  senses). 

Through  the  senses  the  gate  of  the  invisible 
realm  is  opened. 

Only  the  spirit,  however,  can  bring  this  in- 
visible realm  to  light. 

In  the  senses  the  child's  soul  lies  open. 

Nurture  the  senses  aright,  and  you  may  se- 
curely hope  that  your  child  will  later  escape 
much  pain  and  suffering. 

Through  such  nurture,  moreover,  he  is  pre- 
pared for  clearness  and  joy  of  soul. 

For  in  all  that  Nature  declares  to  us  we  may 
find  traces  of  the  fatherly  love  of  God. 

You  must  early  awaken  in  the  child  the  tend- 
ency to  seek  the  inner  in  the  outer. 

If  the  child  finds  this  connection  (i.  e.,  the  con- 
nection between  the  inner  and  outer,  between  the 
seen  and  temporal  and  the  unseen  and  eternal)  he 
will  thereby  break  for  himself  a  path  towards  the 
goal  of  life. 

For  he  to  whom  Nature  announces  a  law  from 
God  will  find  in  his  own  soul  the  peace  of  God. 

FLOWER  SONG. 

Early  give  your  child  experience  of  the  fact 
that  in  all  living  things  there  is  revealed  an 
essence  which  is  struggling  towards  existence. 
Thus,  in  each  plant  one  distinctive  type  of  life 


294:  MOTHER  PLAY. 

is  expressed  alike  in  form,  colour,  and  fragrance, 
because  one  energy  brought  into  existence  these 
several  qualities. 

TICK!   TACK! 

Each  thing  prospers  only  when  in  all  its  do- 
ings it  keeps  true  time. 

Therefore,  if  you  would  have  your  child  thrive, 
give  him  an  orderly  life  and  an  orderly  environ- 
ment. 

He  who  finds  order  repulsive  loses  many  joys. 

Therefore,  mother,  win  your  child  to  love 
order. 

Order  is  surely  a  great  boon  to  the  child. 

MOWING  GRASS. 

Whatever  you  may  be  doing  for  or  with  your 
child,  see  to  it  that  you  remain  in  the  unity  of 
life. 

Do  nothing  unrelatedly  with  your  child.  Other- 
wise you  may  easily  render  him  incapable  of  edu- 
cation. 

How  my  meaning  is  to  be  understood  you  will 
learn  from  this  little  game  of  Mowing  Grass. 

BECKONING  THE  CHICKENS. 

What  is  more  charming  than  the  baby's  little 
trick  of  beckoning  with  his  tiny  finger  ? 

It  is  the  expression  of  life's  living  feeling 
that  it  is  not  alone  in  life. 


NOTE  V.  295 


BECKONING  THE  PIGEONS. 

The  mother  sees  in  baby's  eye  what  gives  him 
delight. 

What  the  child  darkly  and  dimly  feels,  the 
mother  tenderly  and  thoughtfully  nurtures. 

THE  FISH  IN  THE  BROOK. 

Thither  turn  the  child's  eye,  where  active  life 
is  found. 

When  such  active  life  is  in  a  clear  transparent 
element,  the  child's  heart  swells  with  waves  of 


Mother,  seek  to  cherish  and  preserve  the  feel- 
ing whence  springs  delight  in  the  fresh  and  clear. 

THE  TARGET. 

However  meaningless  this  play  may  seem, 
there  is  latent  in  it  more  than  one  might  imagine. 

It  is  like  the  rough  gem  which  only,  needs  to 
be  cut  and  polished  in  order  to  delight  the  eye 
with  rainbow  colours. 

It  points  to  the  truth,  that  distinct  and  even 
widely  separated  objects  may  come  together  in  a 
harmonious  unity. 

Those  who  love  to  behold  truth  wreathed  in 
play  will  discover  in  this  game  many  other  mean- 
ings. 

The  young  child's  soul  is  stirred  with  pre- 
sentiments of  these  deeper  meanings  of  play. 
Such  presentiments  break  for  him  a  path  towards 
insight. 

The  fruition  of  activity  is  a  living  whole. 


296  MOTHER  PLAY. 

Work  should  have  its  due  wage.  Nothing  is 
arbitrary:  facts  reciprocally  determine  each 
other. 

Proportion  is  ever  striving  to  manifest  itself 
in  and  through  all  things. 

Help  your  child  in  feeling  to  apprehend  these 
truths,  and  he  will  not  fail  to  exhibit  measure  and 
proportion  in  his  life. 

PAT-A-CAKE. 

Can  it  be  that  a  high  import  is  latent  even  in 
Pat-a-cake  ? 

Yes,  indeed,  meaning  lies  hid  therein. 

Willingly  must  each  one  do  his  part  at  the 
right  time. 

Only  thus  can  the  joint  work  succeed. 

THE  BIRD'S  NEST. 

To  behold  in  a  symbolic  picture  the  love  of 
children  for'their  mother  delights  the  child. 

Would  you  bless  your  child,  renew  this  pic- 
ture often. 

By  such  renewal,  what  is  true  in  life  will  be- 
come clear  to  his  heart. 

THE  FLOWER  BASKET. 

Seek  to  give  outward  form  to  the  feelings 
which  stir  the  child's  heart. 

Even  the  child's  love  may  fade  and  die  if  it  be 
not  cherished. 


NOTE  V,  297 

THE  PIGEON  HOUSE. 

What  the  child  feels  in  his  heart  he  gladly 
expresses  in  play. 

As  pigeons  love  a  distant  flight,  the  child  loves 
to  go  away  from  home.  As  pigeons  fly  home,  the 
child  soon  turns  his  glance  homeward. 

In  the  home  let  him  find  nurture. 

Teach  him  to  weave  into  a  single  glowing 
wreath  his  many  detached  experiences. 

A  story  may  bind  together  that  which  has 
been  found  apart. 

Thus,  binding  together  detached  experiences, 
life  becomes  a  living  whole. 

NAMING  THE  FINGERS. 

Teach  your  child  early  to  know  the  different 
members  of  his  body. 

Teach  him  to  name  them  distinctly. 

Teach  him  still  more  carefully  to  use  them 
aright,  so  that  when  he  becomes  capable  of  pro- 
ductive activity,  the  objects  he  produces  may  have 
real  worth. 

THE  GREETING. 

The  child  begins  to  be  conscious  of  his  differ- 
ent limbs. 

Therefore  he  loves  to  play  with  his  hands  and 
fingers. 

Mother  love  responds  to  this  indication. 

Through  such  play  the  spirit  shows  that  it  is 
awaking. 

What  stirs  darkly  in  the  child  the  mother 
nurtures  with  care. 
21 


298  MOTHER  PLAY. 

THE  FAMILY. 

Very  early  in  his  life  the  child  has  prescience 
of  the  fact  that  many  different  things  may  be 
one  whole. 

Therefore  the  mother  diligently  teaches  him 
to  know  the  members  of  the  family  circle. 

NUMBERING  THE  FINGERS. 

Man  does  not  appreciate  how  great  is  the  art 
of  counting. 

He  scarcely  suspects  the  magnitude  of  his 
achievement  in  making  himself  at  home  in  space. 

In  its  higher  sense,  correct  counting  teaches 
us  to  choose  what  is  good  and  to  avoid  what  is 
evil. 

Hence  it  gives  us  true  joys. 

THE  FINGER  PIANO. 

What  the  child's  eye  sees  his  heart  would  fain 
hear. 

Many  things  speak  to  man  which  the  outer 
ear  cannot  hear. 

If  you  would  increase  the  joy  of  life  give  the 
child  an  early  prescience  of  this  truth. 

HAPPY  BROTHERS  AND  SISTERS. 

When  the  child  folds  his  little  hands  and 
seems  ready  for  sleep,  then,  mother,  feel  it  deeply 
that  One  is  watching  while  all  things  sleep  in  the 
quiet  night. 

Believe  that  through  the  good  you  think  you 
are  leading  your  child  to  the  good. 


NOTE  V.  299 

Nothing  better  can  you  give  your  child  than 
the  assurance  that  in  the  One  True  Life  he  also 

lives. 

THE  CHILDREN  ON  THE  TOWER. 

Bind  into  a  beautiful  whole  all  that  you  have 
played  singly  with  your  child. 

It  rejoices  us  to  behold  a  child  at  play.  It  re- 
joices us  still  more  to  watch  a  group  of  playing 
children. 

A  single  flower  delights  the  child,  but  he  finds 
greater  pleasure  in  the  variegated  wreath. 

From  such  experiences  the  child  may  win  a 
presentiment  of  the  truth  that  the  least  thing 
belongs  to  the  great  whole. 

THE  LITTLE  BOY  AND  THE  MOON. 

Why  does  the  young  child  feel  so  intimately 
related  to  things  far  off  in  space  ? 

Why  does  he  so  ardently  desire  contact  and 
union  with  what  is  distant  ? 

Mother,  what  shall  we  learn  from  these  feel- 
ings of  the  child  ?  How  shall  they  teach  us  not 
to  hinder,  but  help  his  developing  life  ? 

Let  our  endeavour  be  to  help  him  find  the 
inner  unity  before  he  loses  the  outer,  so  that  as 
objects  retreat  in  space  they  may  approach  his 
spirit. 

Through  such  fostering  care  let  us  make  for 
the  child  a  ladder  over  which  he  may  securely 
climb  towards  spiritual  union  with  Nature. 

Disturb  not  your  little  one's  blessed  dream  of 
unity  with  the  great  World-whole — that  dream 
in  which  he  stretches  forth  his  hand  to  grasp  the 


300  MOTHER  PLAY. 

heavenly  lights — that  dream  in  which  he  knows 
of  no  barrier  between  himself  and  heaven. 

THE  LITTLE  MAIDEN  AND  THE  STARS. 

With  whatever  the  child's  heart  is  full  he  fills 
.his  environment,  and  all  life  is  to  him  a  picture 
of  his  soul. 

Hence  he  delights  to  impute  to  all  objects 
human  relationships. 

Parents,  if  you  wish  your  child  when  older  to 
heed  your  loving  teaching  do  not  interfere  with 
this  tendency  of  childhood. 

Your  children  will  be  devoutly  active  just  in 
proportion  as  their  hearts  are  penetrated  by  the 
feeling  that  the  loving,  creative  throes  of  Spirit 
are  the  source  of  all  the  activity  which  struggles 
for  self-expression  in  Nature,  and  whose  faithful 
and  gentle  working  is  manifested  throughout 
Nature. 

Because  they  feel  it  to  be  spiritual,  children 
are  at  one  with  life.  Let  life  give  back  to  them 
love  for  love. 

THE  LIGHT-BIRD. 

The  mother  speaks  to  her  child :  "  My  darling, 
always  remember  that  you  must  not  grasp  every- 
thing you  see." 

THE  HARE. 

Though  light  illuminate  the  white  wall,  it  can 
make  no  picture  upon  it. 

But  let  the  skilful  hand  intervene  between 
the  light  and  the  wall,  and  lo !  a  picture  which 
delights  the  baby's  heart. 


NOTE  V.  301 

Exercise  in  play  your  child's  creative  power, 
in  order  that,  united  with  the  power  of  the  Eter- 
nal Light,  it  may  turn  the  shadows  of  life  into 
beautiful  pictures. 

THE  WOLF  AND  THE  WILD  PIG. 

The  child  loves  to  see  pictures  of  objects  with 
which  he  is  familiar. 

Even  pictures  of  a  wolf  or  a  pig  give  him 
pleasure. 

The  young  child  curiously  observes  the  ways 
of  animals. 

Mother,  see  to  it  that  through  his  curiosity 
his  purity  of  soul  receive  no  stain. 

THE  LITTLE  WINDOW. 

Why  is  it  that  the  child  loves  to  look  through 
the  window  pane  at  the  bright  light  ?  * 

May  it  not  be  because  out  of  clearness  (or 
purity)  blossoms  a  beautiful  life  ? 

Mother,  strive  to  surround  your  child  with 
clear,  pure  life. 

THE  WINDOW. 

Gently  nurture  the  child's  obscure  presenti- 
ment of  a  great  life  at  one  with  itself. 

Help  him  to  make  a  secure  pathway  through 
feeling  to  the  conviction  that  he  is  himself  a 
member  of,  or  participant  in,  this  one  life. 

Help  him  to  behold  the  inner  in  the  outer,  and 
to  trust  in  the  inner  and  not  the  outer. 

*  Froebel  is  thinking  of  the  small  old-fashioned  panes.  See 
picture  and  commentary. 


302  MOTHER  PLAY. 

Teach  him  to  feel  that  even  things  which  are 
farthest  apart  in  space  are  inwardly  one,  because 
they  participate  in  one  life. 

Stir  his  soul  with  a  premonition  of  the  fact 
that  each  thing  and  all  things  speak  to  man, 
though  their  speech  is  inaudible  to  the  outer  ear, 
and  create  in  him  the  lively  faith  that  he  who 
understands  aright  this  symbolic  language  will 
pursue  his  life  course  with  peace  and  joy. 

THE  CHARCOAL  BURNER. 

Mother,  early  teach  your  child  that  much  may 
be  done  and  many  things  may  be  made  with  few 
resources. 

Teach  him  how  unwieldy  matter  may  be  mas- 
tered ;  help  him  to  understand  that  humble  and 
apparently  insignificant  callings  imply  aptitudes 
and  skill. 

THE  CARPENTER. 

Whatever  the  child  sees  done  by  others  calls 
forth  something  in  himself. 

Therefore  seek  through  symbolic  suggestion 
to  lead  him  with  clearness  from  the  sensible  to 
the  spiritual. 

THE  BRIDGE. 

Let  the  child  discover  in  play  how  to  unite 
separated  things. 

Give  him  hints  of  the  fact  that  human  power 
is  able  to  find  or  make  connections  even  where 
the  obstacles  to  union  seem  insuperable,  and 
separation  appears  to  be  an  invincible  fact. 


NOTE   V.  303 

THE  FARMYARD  GATE. 

Early  teach,  your  child  through  play  to  guard 
that  which  is  dear  to  him  from  the  danger  of 
loss. 

He  will  not  understand  the  truth  you  seek  to 
hint  to  him  through  your  playful  devices. 

Nevertheless,  the  seed  sown  in  his  heart  will 
germinate  and  grow,  and  its  fruit,  though  long  in 
ripening,  will  be  sure  to  come. 

THE  LITTLE  GARDENER. 

Would  you  develop  in  your  child  the  love  of 
nurture  ? 

Give  him  something  to  nourish. 

Would  you  prepare  him  for  the  higher  and 
more  spiritual  forms  of  nurture  ? 

Grant  him,  wherever  you  can,  the  joy  which 
comes  of  cherishing  life. 

THE  WHEELWRIGHT. 

The  child  sees  with  delight  in  how  many  ways 
man  can  use  his  hands. 

THE  JOINER. 

That  each  thing  has  a  speech  of  its  own  does 
not  escape  the  notice  of  the  child. 

But  what  is  easily  apprehended  is  often  not 
appreciated. 

Therefore,  parents,  place  due  emphasis  on  this 
important  truth. 


304  MOTHER  PLAY. 

THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THE  GOOD  CHILD. 

A  still  presentiment  lies  hid  within  the  soul 
of  the  child  that  he  is  not  alone  in  life. 

Therefore  he  listens  eagerly  to  what  others 
say  of  him. 

Mother,  when  you  notice  that  your  child  be- 
gins to  be  attentive  to  what  others  say  of  him  it 
behooves  you  to  be  watchful  and  careful. 

He  has  mounted  to  a  new  plane  of  life. 

He  has  begun  to  hear  and  heed  the  true  call  of 
life. 

Sacredly  guard  his  simplicity  and  purity  of 
soul. 

Protect  him  from  the  illusion  of  false  appear- 
ance. 

Teach  him  not  to  rest  in  mere  outward  show. 
Help  him  earnestly  to  strive  for  and  win  inward 
excellence.* 

THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THE  BAD  CHILD. 

Break  for  your  child  a  path  towards  the  high- 
est happiness  of  life  by  teaching  him  that  all  men 
are  attracted  by  what  is  good,  and  that  the  good 
flee  from  what  is  evil. 

*  The  thought  in  this  motto  is  that  only  through  the  recog- 
nition of  the  good  by  others  can  the  child  Jearn  to  know  the 
good.  Froebel  does  not  bid  the  mother  teach  her  child  to  dis- 
criminate between  true  and  false  praise.  He  appeals  to  her  to 
protect  the  child  from  false  praise  and  by  wise  praise  teach  him 
to  recognize  and  love  the  good, 


NOTE  V.  305 

THE  KNIGHTS  AND  THE  MOTHER. 

Let  your  child  early  have  the  experience  that 
what  is  good  must  be  protected. 

Let  his  heart  be  rejoiced  by  the  knowledge 
that  you  value  and  guard  what  is  good. 

HIDE  AND  SEEK. 

Why  does  your  child  delight  in  Hide  and 
Seek? 

In  the  dawning  sense  of  personality  lies  the 
secret  of  his  joy. 

He  begins  to  recognise  himself  when  he  hears 
his  name  called. 

When,  therefore,  he  begins  to  love  hiding 
games  he  has  attained  a  new  stage  of  develop- 
ment. 

From  this  time  forward  you  must  increase 
your  loving  care,  for  upon  this  higher  plane  of 
development  he  is  confronted  with  new  dan- 
gers. 

Let  your  effort  be  to  awaken  thoughtful  ness, 
and  to  stir  ideals  of  modesty ;  for  if  the  roots  of 
his  life  be  pure  and  deliberate  deeds,  he  will 
never  feel  the  impulse  to  hide  from  you  anything 
he  does. 

CUCKOO. 

What  the  mother's  cuckoo  call  is  to  the  young 
child  the  call  of  conscience  is  to  the  child  of  larger 
growth. 

Hearing  and  heeding  the  gentle  voice,  the 
child  awakens  to  the  sense  of  community,  and 
knows  that  his  is  no  isolated  life. 


306  MOTHER  PLAY. 

Joyfully,  thenceforward,  will  conscience  dwell 
with  him,  a  beautiful  mediator  between  himself 
and  the  Universal  and  Divine. 

THE  TOYMAN  AND  THE  MAIDEN. 

The  child  is  rejoiced  by  the  toyman's  wares. 
The  mother  rejoices  in  her  child. 

THE  TOYMAN  AND  THE  LITTLE  BOY. 

The  toyman  skilfully  displays  his  wares. 

The  child  will  be  attracted  by  this  display, 
and  through  toys  may  be  guided  by  a  wise  love 
towards  what  is  good. 

THE  CHURCH. 

Wherever  there  is  harmony  in  the  manifold, 
and  especially  where  such  harmony  is  expressed 
in  forms  and  tones,  thither  turns  the  child's  soul 
with  prescient  yearning. 

Parents,  fail  not  to  cherish  this  attraction. 

Above  all,  help  your  loved  child  early  to  a 
prescience  of  the  truth,  that  a  high  aspiration 
unites  all  souls. 

To  break  a  path  towards  the  purest  joy  of  life 
is  not  so  difficult  as  you  may  suppose.  But  the 
truth  whence  such  joy  springs  must  live  in  you, 
and  be  the  soul  of  all  you  do. 

By  stirring  the  consciousness  of  this  selfsame 
truth  in  your  child,  you  will  give  him  the  highest 
and  most  precious  of  all  gifts — a  gift  which  will 
remain  in  his  soul  a  protective  power,  of  which 
he  cannot  be  robbed ;  a  gift  through  which  he 


•UNIVERSITY) 

307 


will  become  at  one  with  himself,  in  heart  and  in- 
tellect. 

Parents,  inspire  your  child  with  this  precious 
faith,  and  he  will  bless  you  for  it  so  long  as  he 
lives. 

Think  not  he  is  too  young  to  feel  such  faith. 
A  magnet  is  hidden  in  the  depths  of  his  soul, 
which  points  him  ever  towards  the  unity  of  life, 
and  by  its  repulsion  shows  him  that  all  seeming 
isolation  is  illusion. 

If  you  desire  to  bind  him  to  you,  let  your  own 
union  with  the  One  shine  through  all  you  do. 

THE  LITTLE  ARTIST. 

How  insignificant,  how  almost  nonexistent  is 
the  young  child's  productive  power  ! 

Yet,  mother,  in  least  things  dwells  the  power 
which  creates  greatest  things. 

Whatever  becomes,  however  immeasurably 
great,  must  have  an  apparently  insignificant  be- 
ginning. 

From  life  imperceptible,  hidden  in  the  womb 
of  the  great  Whole,  all  things  proceed. 

Therefore  is  God  so  godlike,  great  ! 

From  nothing  God  called  forth  the  torrents 
whose  roar  deafens  your  ear. 

From  nothing  he  called  forth  the  celestial 
lights. 

Has  he  not  said  :  "  Be  faithful  in  the  least  "  ? 
And  will  you  ignore  the  appeal  of  the  least  in 
your  child  ? 

Do  you  imagine  that  in  the  child  alone  small 
powers  are  insignificant  ? 


308  MOTHER  PLAY. 

Believe  it  not  ;  but  let  your  most  earnest  effort 
be  to  nurture  your  child's  almost  imperceptible 
powers.* 

*  Students  will  have  observed  that  the  original  mottoes  are 
printed  above  the  pictures.  As  The  Child  and  Moon,  The  Wild 
Pig,  and  The  Garden  Gate  lacked  mottoes,  the  space  above 
each  of  these  pictures  has  been  rilled  by  the  poem  for  the  child. 
Owing  to  lack  of  space,  several  mottoes  have  been  given  only 
in  part.  These  are  here  printed  in  full. 


Heine  ^nabe  mtfc  ber 

SBcirunt  fd)einen  2)inge,  in  bent  SRaume  fern, 


o$l  bent  fleinen  $inb  fo  tnntg  nafy  ?  — 
SBarunt  rrwnfd)t,  erfeljnt  ba$  $letne  roofyl  fo  gent, 
£)ajji  ba3  Serne  jur  2)eretn1gung  rodre  ba? 
2Bci3  mag,  SKutter,  un$  rcofyl  btep  »om  ^tnbe  lefyren  ?  — 
2)a§  lt)tr  fetn  ©ntfalten  forbern  unb  nit^t  fioren. 
!Da§,  eft1  fici)  bie  £>tnge  in  bent  ^aitme  »on  tl)m  irinben, 
6^  bie  Stn'gung  $nnfd)en  ftc^  unb  i^nen  ntoge  ftnben  ; 
3)a§  bie  t  n  n  r  e  @tmgung  ju  pflegen,  ju  erf  ennen, 
(Efje  augcrli^  bie  2)tnge  fld>  »ont  ^tnbe  trennen. 
ga§  burcl)  folc^1  S3ead)ten  un?  bent  $inb  beretten 
gtne  fejle  Setter,  fldjer  fortjuf(|reiten.  — 
2)arum  flBrt  ba«5  ^tnbletn  ntc^t  in  fetnem  fiifkn  ^traitme, 
@tc^  nttt  9lfl(m  (£tn$  ju  fu^I1n  im  gro§en  SBeltenraume  ; 
2Bo  ^  noc^  fro^  ben  Slrm  entgegenf^recft  bent  ^immelSltcfy 

2Bo  ^  noc^  feine  (Sdjranfe  fennt, 

2)te  ea  »on  bent  £tmntel  trennt  ; 
2>runt  in  btefent  fePgen  Slraume  flort  ba£  ^tnblein  ntc^t. 


f  aunt  gtt>eiialjrige  SS'ldtx^ett  tinb  Me  Sterne* 

tmmer  ba^  ^tnbd)en  wmgtbt, 
^aItni§  in  atlent  e<3  Itebt  ; 
fetn  .^erjcfyen  e$  fitMenb  erfiiflt, 
i[i  t^nt  aud)  ba^  Ceben  etn  Stlb. 
gltern,  rcottet  ja  be<^  ^tnbe^  ©inn  ntc^t  ftoren, 
(Soil  e^  fiinfttg  (Surer  Stefrc  Sc^rc 


NOTE  VI.  309 


NOTE  VI  (See  page  98). 

IN  the  rhymes  here  given  in  prose  translation, 
the  child  is  supposed  to  be  speaking  to  the  flowers. 
Manifestly,  however,  the  poem  is  intended  for  the 
mother,  and  expresses  feelings  which  stir  in  the 
unconscious  depths  of  the  child's  soul. 

"  Dear  flowers,  you  teach  me  what  is  good,  and 
warn  me  of  what  is  evil. 


£>cnn  nur  baburdj  nrirb  ba#  £anbetn  iljnen  nridjttg  ; 
2)aburdj  toerben  ^inber  einjig  Ieben3tud)tig, 
2Benn  fie  flar  unb  innig  ba<3  ®eful)l  burdjbringt, 
in  aflem  fhtt  nut  $raft  f)er»or  fid)  ringt  : 
in  allent  Ici^f  bocty  treu  fie  loirfen  fe^en, 
2>a«  fei  etne^  ©eiflea  iiebenb  f^affenb  2Be^en. 
Snnig  eintg  f^ouen  fte  barum  in<3  Seben, 
Snn'ge  £icbe  fott  e^  i^nen  triebergeben, 


9)flcgc  Iei«  be^  $inbe$  bunfle^  Sl^ncn, 
2)ag  ein  in  fid)  eintg  Seben  fei  ; 
ftd)erem  ©cfu^lc  Sa^nen, 
e^  fclbfl  »on  i^nt  ein  ®lieb  Ja  fei. 
e3  im  tu^ern  3nn1rc«  fd)auen, 
9luf  ba^  3nn1re,  nic^t  auf  ^u§1re^  trauen. 
Sap  e^  fit^Ien,  wa3  auc^  ir>eit  getrennt  erfd)eine, 
3n  fid)  bod)  ein  innig  einig  Seben  eine, 
Itnb  ba^  jebeS,  tnenn  and)  prbar  nidjt, 
3u  bem  3)?enfd)en  bod)  finnbilblid)  fprtdjt  : 
S)a§,  tt>er  biefe  <Sprad)e  red)t  uerfic^t, 
^riebig,  freiibig  burdj  ba^  Seben  ge^t. 

^ir^cntfttir  mit  ^cnftcr* 

SBtllfl  2)u  nun  X)ein  ^inb  2)ir  innig  einen, 

£a§  in  alem  2)eine  Stn'gung  mit  bem  (Etnigen  burd)fd)einen, 


310  MOTHER  PLAY. 

"  My  heart  beats  with  joy  when  you  bend  to- 
wards me,  and  show  nie  all  that  you  hide  in  your 
glowing  cups. 

"  I  know  that  you  long  to  give  me  everything 
which  can  foster  my  life,  protect  me  from  danger, 
guard  my  innocence  of  soul. 

"  Let  me  know  more  than  your  names. 

"  Teach  me  also  your  language.  Help  me  to 
understand  what  you  say  in  colour,  in  form,  and 
in  the  fragrance  with  which  you  fill  the  air. 

"  Ah  !  I  know  what  you  are  saying.  '  Love 
the'  truth.  Avoid  the  pleasures  which  bring 
forth  pain/ 

"I  know  that  you  wish  to   exercise  all  my 


fleiite 

!Dcd)  trie  nennt1  id)  alt1  bie  f  d)  b  n  e  n  <5>  a  d)  e  n  , 
£)ie  mein  $tnbd)en  jeidjnenb  fd)on  fann  madjen  ?  — 
S&aS  entftefjt,  ^roar  SltleS  nrieber  fd)tt>inbet, 
2)od)  bie  (Sd)affenS=*$raft  fid) 


w2Benn  2)etn  ^inb  »on  bem,  n?a^  er  fid)  fcfyuf, 

5lud)  nut  n>enig  urn  ftd)  ^er  erfd)aut, 
•£>at  1^  bod),  folgenb  feinem  <2>d)affen3*=9luf, 
Sine  rcid)e  SBelt  in  fid)  erbaut." 

In  the  original  these  lines  are  printed  at  the  end  of  the 
poem  for  the  child.  They  are,  however,  intended  for  the  mother. 
They  may  be  translated  as  follows  : 

"  But  how  shall  I  name  all  the  pretty  things  my  child  can 
make.  What  he  produces  will  disappear,  but  by  producing  it 
he  increases  his  creative  power." 

Mother,  though  your  child  preserves  externally  but  little  of 
what  he  has  made,  he  has  by  following  his  creative  impulse 
built  a  world  within  himself. 


NOTE   VI.  311 

senses,  so  that  I  may  learn  to  recognise  and  love 
the  good. 

"  I  know  that  you  desire  to  strengthen  my  will, 
so  that  my  deeds  may  be  like  yours — i.  e.,in  accord 
with  my  nature  and  destiny. 

"  Dear  flowers,  how  small  soever  you  may  be, 
in  each  one  of  you  an  angel  dwells.  Or,  rather, 
you  yourselves  are  little  angels,  and  having  you 
I  am  never  alone. 

"  You  long  to  touch  my  heart.  You  wish  to 
lead  me  to  the  Father  who  through  his  love  called 
both  you  and  me  into  being. 

"  Something  else  you  do  for  me.  You  let  me 
gather  you  and  give  you  to  my  dear  parents. 

"  You  are  glad  to  fade  and  die,  in  order  to  let 
me  have  the  joy  of  giving  back  love  for  love. 

"  Surely  in  you  is  pictured  the  love  of  parents, 
who  are  always  giving  themselves  to  their  little 
children. 

"  Is  there  any  myster}^  you  cannot  explain  ?  I 
think  not.  Every  question  we  little  children  ask, 
you  dear  flowers  can  answer. 

"Never  can  I  tell  all  the  good  things  Love 
teaches  me  through  you.  But  I  can  listen  to  her 
voice  and  heed  her  lessons. 

"Never  will  I  break  your  stalks  in  wanton 
play.  Should  I  do  so,  thorns  of  remorse  would 
pierce  my  heart/' 


312  MOTHER  PLAY. 

NOTE  VII. 
CLOSING  THOUGHTS. 

Prose  translation  of  Froebel's  poem  printed  in  the  original 
of  Mother  Play  after  the  Songs  and  Mottoes : 

I. 

LET  us  now  weave  our  single  flowers  into  one 
fragrant  wreath. 

Let  us  bind  our  isolated  plays  into  one  living 
whole. 

Let  us  ask  ourselves  what  our  little  child  has 
gained  from  his  plays. 

Let  us  furthermore  make  clear  to  our  minds 
the  truths  which  we  ourselves  have  come  to  rec- 
ognise through  play. 

Finally,  let  us  seek  to  apprehend  the  import 
of  these  truths  and  their  relationship  to  the  life 
within  and  without  us. 

If  we  desire  to  bless  the  child  with  a  wise 
nurture,  if  we  wish  to  guide  him  towards  the 
true  goal  of  life,  if  we  aspire  to  prepare  him  for 
life-unity  and  harmony,  we  must  from  time  to 
time  cast  a  retrospective  glance  at  our  own  pro- 
cedure. 

He  who  does  not  look  backward  is  unable  to 
move  forward  with  assurance  and  safety. 

Therefore  let  the  wreath  appear  which  shall 
bind  in  one  whole  our  separate  flowers. 


NOTE   VII.  313 


II. 

Life  and  its  forces  first  stirred  within  the 
baby.  He  moved  his  limbs  (Play  with  the 
Limbs). 

Through  his  senses  he  sucked  food  for  his 
soul  (Taste  and  Flower  Songs). 

He  learned  to  know  objects  and  their  quali- 
ties even  before  he  was  able  to  name  them. 

He  tried  in  different  ways  to  bring  distant 
things  near  him,  and  to  remove  near  things  from 
him,  so  that  he  might  inwardly  apprehend  them 
(Falling!  Falling!  Calling  Chickens,  Fishes,  Child 
and  Moon,  Boy  and  Moon). 


in. 

Next  the  child  tried  to  join  together  separated 
things,  and  to  find  some  tie  between  differing 
things  (Target,  Finger  Songs,  Family,  Grass- 
mowing,  Pat-a-cake,  Carpenter,  etc.). 

He  began  to  distinguish  himself  from  others, 
to  appropriate  things  which  were  pleasant  to  him, 
a,nd  to  repel  and  avoid  things  unpleasant.  In  his 
plays  he  revealed  a  dawning  self -consciousness 
(Light  Songs). 

He  learned  to  seek  for  causes  and  energies, 
and  to  distinguish  between  grounds  and  conse- 
quences (Weather-vane,  Bird's  Nest,  Trade  Songs, 
etc.). 

He  showed  traces  of  thought,  power  to  draw 
conclusions,  ability  to  discriminate  between  many 
different  objects  and  to  choose  and  appropriate 
22 


314  MOTHER  PLAY. 

those  he  liked  (Toyman  and  Maiden,  Toyman 
and  Boy). 

He  began  to  relate  the  words  and  deeds  of 
others  to  himself  (Knights),  and  to  order  all  his 
separate  experiences  into  a  little  world  of  his  own 
making  (Children  on  the  Tower,  Little  Artist). 

IV. 

Through  a  nurture  responsive  to  these  indica- 
tions and  re-enforced  by  some  inevitable  stripes 
and  pain  the  child  will  learn  the  great  lesson  of 
life — the  lesson  that  he  cannot  be  permitted  to 
indulge  in  arbitrary  caprice — the  lesson  that  he 
is  both  a  free  being  and  a  dependent  being.  In  a 
word,  he  will  come  to  understand  that  a  great 
Power  reigns  in  the  universe,  and  that  this  great 
Power  gives  and  creates  true  freedom. 

With  premonition  of  this  truth  the  child  be- 
gins to  care  for  what  his  elders  think  of  him 
(Songs  of  the  Knights).  When  he  attains  this 
stage  of  development,  then,  mother,  it  is  in  your 
power  to  lead  him  in  the  path  of  right.  You  may 
allure  him  to  so  love  the  good  that  by  self-impul- 
sion he  will  turn  away  even  from  evil  thoughts. 
A  new  power  or  organ  is  sprouting  within  him. 
It  seems  at  times  like  a  voice,  at  times  like  an 
ear.  It  teaches  him  what  is  right  and  good.  It 
warns  him  to  avoid  the  bad.  Through  this  ger- 
minating power  you  may  incline  him,  if  you  will, 
towards  all  that  is  pure  and  righteous.  Teach 
him  to  consider  and  follow  what  is  right  in  his 
own  deeds.  Teach  him  to  recognise  and  honour 
the  good  in  others  (Knights,  Hide  and  Seek, 


NOTE   VII.  315 

Cuckoo).  By  such  watchful  guidance  you  may 
help  him  to  love,  revere,  and  obey  this  inner 
power,  even  before  he  knows  its  name.  You 
may  also  teach  him  to  love  its  manifestations  in 
others.  When  you  have  brought  your  child  to 
the  point  that  of  himself  he  shuns  the  base  and 
ignoble,  of  himself  inclines  towards  the  pure  and 
good — yea,  feels  that  purity  and  goodness  are  the 
very  life  of  life — then,  and  not  till  then,  may  you 
point  out  to  him  through  clear  and  precise  pre- 
cepts how  he  may  attain  the  goal  of  human  ex- 
istence. 


v. 

And  now,  at  last,  dear  mother,  ask  yourself 
what  great  insights  have  grown  clear  to  you 
through  your  play  with  your  child  and  what 
inward  power  you  have  won. 

Have  you  not  learned  the  unity  and  whole- 
ness of  man's  being  ? 

Have  you  not  beheld  your  own  inmost  being 
reflected  in  that  of  your  child  ? 

Have  you  not  come  to  realise  through  his  de- 
veloping life  how  out  of  imperfection  you  too  are 
striving  and  growing  towards  the  perfect  ? 

Only  by  pressing  through  darkness  towards 
the  light  can  that  which  is  highest  be  won.  Man 
carries  within  him  the  unity  of  life.  This  life- 
unity  is  an  impelling  force.  To  man  is  given  the 
power  to  cherish  and  nurture  it.  No  obstacles 
and  no  dangers  shall  deter  him  from  making 
actual  this  inwardly  impelling  ideal. 


316  MOTHER   PLAY. 

VI. 

So  much  you  have  learned  of  yourself.  And 
now  what  have  you  learned  about  the  outer 
world  ?  Have  you  not  found  that  things  seem- 
ingly different  are  inwardly  one  ?  Have  you  not 
learned  that  all  separation  exists  in  and  for 
union  ?  Has  it  not  become  clear  to  you  that  all 
things  are  related ;  that  each  thing  helps  all 
things,  and  is  in  turn  helped  by  all  ?  And  re- 
ciprocal relation — does  it  not  imply  an  inde- 
pendent all-including  whole  ? 

VII. 

Hear  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter :  In 
all  things  works  one  creative  life,  because  the 
life  of  all  things  proceeds  from  one  God. 


NOTE  VIII  (See  page  107). 

The  following  .sentences  were  thoughtlessly 
omitted  at  end  of  commentary  on  Mowing  Grass  : 

"  Now,  mother,  it  is  clear  to  me  why  the  two 
children  sitting  under  the  trees  seem  so  sunk  in 
thought.  May  the  truths  which  the  trees  express 
never  echo  from  their  own  experience  through 
their  hearts!  Mother,  mother,  may  you  never 
need  to  fear  anything  of  this  kind  for  your  chil- 
dren !  Happy  boy  mowing  so  vigorously  ;  sturdy 
little  maiden  merrily  following  the  hay-cart,  it 
will  surely  not  happen  to  you." 


THE   END. 


AN 


TIM  ,  OF  «  0«« 


OVERDUE. 


UGANDA 

JAN  2  4  1967 


T.D  21- 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUFORN1A  LIBRARY 


